My Darling Love
by OurBabyBanana
Summary: The story of George and Mary Darling, Wendy, Captain Hook and Peter Pan from the start to the very finish. The Darling children taking flight in the night with Peter Pan is only a small part of the puzzle. Rated R for sex, violence & language. COMPLETED
1. Default Chapter

Poor George Darling, he gets no respect. It always seems he's made the witless fool and wimp. Being that I always love the underdog, I write my fan fiction just for him. Forget what you read in the book Peter Pan about how he and Mary met and married and the events leading up to and well after, forget the whole thing because this is the real story right here including all the juicy details and gossip. Each chapter is rated ranging from PG to NC-17 and I'll try my best to list a warning at the top of chapters containing offensive topics and sexual content. There is plenty of Captain Hook! But you will have to wait some chapters to see him. Promise it will be worth it. Mr. Isaacs played Mr. Darling, and, as always, he is the inspiration for this character. I dedicate this story to every single woman in the world that wore white on her wedding day just because it was tradition, and you know what I mean.

My little added afterthought, as I finished my later chapters I became aware that Mr. James Barrie, the original author, had written a story explaining how Peter Pan came to be, entitled "The Little White Bird". **I have read the book, "Peter Pan", although I have not read any other books written by J.M. Barrie, such as "The Little White Bird." **Therefore if my fantasies in print are not up to snuff, read a few lines up where it says forget what you've read of the original story now stories. I don't own any of these characters nor do I make money off of my writing.

One more thing, this became my obsession when writing, so most episodes are long and the story itself spans over 70 chapters. But it does truly take you from start to finish, and all questions you ever wanted to know but were afraid to ask will be answered.

Much thanks and endless appreciation to CheetahLee who has graciously accepted the position of BETA reader and is doing an amazing job – Thank you for helping me through the rough spots and using a better mind to the times and also a much better thesaurus!

Chapter 1 – rated G

My Darling Love

Chapter 1 – Hidden in White

_"A woman has two smiles that an angel might envy, the smile that accepts a lover before words are uttered, and the smile that lights on the first born babe, and assures it of a mother's love. __-Thomas Chandler Haliburton_

She stood at the back of the church. She wore a dress of antique lace, her mother's, white as freshly fallen snow, the first of winter. The train ran down the length and fanned out feet behind her, her veil followed. The beadwork was exquisite; pearls encircled the neck and bodice. It was simple a-line, flattering to her once slim figure. She had dreamed all of her life of wearing this, as there had never been a more beautiful dress to be married in.

She carried in her hands pink roses, a bouquet of full blooms held out before her, just like her mother's. Her bridesmaids wore dresses in a hue of fairest periwinkle, her Aunt Millicent's choice. They lined down the front altar, standing as wooden soldiers, awaiting her arrival. To her right, was her father, who, on a day such as this, should have been proud-- more proud, in fact, than he had ever been in his entire life. For she was by far the loveliest bride anyone had ever seen. Instead he held an expression of a proper gentleman about to vomit. Her mother was no better suited in face and frowned to her as the wedding march began.

It should be the have been the happiest day, and try as they might, not one could find in their heart a reason for it to be that happiest day, aside from the bride and groom. Her mother nodded to her father to step forward down the aisle, but he only held a nasty glare directed towards the groom. The groom's parents' disposition was no better, staring straight ahead into nothingness as if waiting to be executed by firing squad. The bridesmaids and groomsmen waited in silent prayer that this was a dream and soon they would wake up and joke about it over morning tea.

But is was not, and in the foyer of the church, with her father grasping her arm tightly, Mary looked forward and saw her darling love waiting for her. She nudged her father onward and he directed her down the aisle marching along quickly. She felt that, had he been able to push her -- or better yet pick her up and throw her -- to the priest, he bloody well would have.

As they arrived at the altar, at a time when every father turns to his daughter and expresses sentiments of love and pride, her father sneered, murmuring, "I think it's a sin in the eyes of God that you are wearing your mother's white gown on your wedding day."

It did not start out that way.

Far from it, for Mary Elizabeth Baker was the prettiest and most proper of all young ladies. Her father was a baker, just as his last name denoted, and she was the only daughter and only child of a proud family of modest wealth. She attended the correct schools and was educated in etiquette, a subject deemed far more important than reading and arithmetic by her Aunt Millicent. "When she is married to a rich gentleman he will not want her to be too smart. More so, he will desire a proper young lady who knows the correct fork to use at dinner." Her mother felt she should go to University, something unheard of at the time, but Aunt Millicent, with the undying support of her brother, Mary's father, resolutely and absolutely forbade such nonsense. "Excellent choice, dearest brother. Some would already consider her a spinster if she is not engaged by the time she graduates grammar school."

And so, she was raised a proper young lady of moderate means, with aspirations of marrying a wealthy lawyer or politician or banker, and being a lady of the house, more of a decoration than a partner. Her Aunt Millicent insisted she keep her hair long, curled and properly displayed above her head at all times. She was to dress for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and at all other times, wear the accepted attire for whatever the situation required. Her father directed her to always follow Aunt Millicent's rules. She did not mind, because Aunt Millicent bought her the finest things, dresses and toys, music boxes and books -- anything her heart desired, and so, her affections for her domineering and controlling Aunt in childhood came easy.

Joseph and Millicent came from a poor family. Had he not learned the trade of baker working for his parents' landlord to pay the rent, he would have been destitute. Aunt Millicent was wiser on how to get ahead in the world. In school, she made friends with the richest girls and lied about her background. For fancy parties, she would borrow a dress from another not invited and make a show of having all the money in the world. She snagged a man, a very rich man, by allowing him to take her to bed before they were even engaged. Once with child, he was forced to marry her and accept her poor family and her lies. He was the one who loaned Mary's father, Joseph Baker, the money to begin his own business. As repayment for his generosity, Aunt Millicent sent him to an early grave and kept his wealth well invested. Aunt Millicent's only child died of the measles when only a baby, therefore with no one else to love, she doted on and spoiled Mary.

Aunt Millicent had the largest bedroom of her mansion converted into a grand bedchamber for her only niece and filled it with all the luxuries money could buy. As a child, Mary had toys beyond her wildest dreams, games and books (but not too many books). Aunt Millicent gave her an old tea set "to practice with," and many of her old out-of-date gowns "to get a feel of the finer things money can buy." At Mary's young age, it had all the makings of a fairy tale, having tea with a queen, dressed in her posh dress of green velvet, and what it fun it was to play dress up! "Mary Elizabeth will be staying with me this weekend," became a constant in the Baker home, and Mary had not minded, for in Millicent's home, she was a princess. She would beg and plead with her parents to go, though she hardly had to ask, for if Aunt Millicent said so, then it was so.

Unfortunately, the begging and pleading, not to mention the desire to spend weekends with Aunt Millicent, only lasted until she was twelve, then everything gradually changed. The toys and old worn out gowns of the past were replaced by real, fancy grown-up dresses tailored just for Mary with all the correct matching accessories from head to toe. There was to be no more running about or pretending anything for Mary. There was to be no running about, period. "Young ladies of polite society never run anywhere." Aunt Millicent always had rules about how she should behave, only now they were stricter and the punishment, when rules were not observed, was more severe. "How many times do I have to tell you, you are no longer allowed to see that Penny girl? Her family is indigent and ill educated. No proper and decent young man will want to court a young lady that is seen on the street with that girl. If you continue to be strong-minded about such things, I will take back the broche and necklace with matching earrings I purchased especially for you. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" Such pronouncements as that became a daily struggle for Mary.

"Sit up straight. Where is your handkerchief? Well, put it away, if a proper young man sees you have one, he will never offer you his!" And that was only as Mary sat down to breakfast. "Walk to school," Aunt Millicent commanded.

"I do walk to school Aunt Millicent," Mary replied.

"Don't get sassy with me young lady, you do not 'walk', you saunter along daydreaming, looking all around smiling at everyone you pass. Keep your eyes on the direction you are going and do not speak to strangers!" Aunt Millicent followed Mary to school and was there when the final bell rang dismissing others to their fun and games, when school was finished. At dinner it became worse, "Incorrect fork, Mary Elizabeth...Do not leave your spoon on the table, place it quietly on the saucer..."

Aunt Millicent made her take piano lessons, and made her sit in the parlor doing nothing except mimicking a statue collecting dust. "When you are married and your husband reads the paper, you will have to sit and be bored so prepare yourself now."

In certain regards Mary was daring, for, even though she was forbidden to see her friend Penny, she still did so. Penny's mother taught Mary to crochet. "Only those born of poor means doing that sort of handiwork. If you want to learn a useful skill to pass the hours of the evening, I will teach you cross stitching and embroidery," Aunt Millicent declared seeing Mary had a new hobby she was unaware of, and made Mary learn that as well.

As Mary grew into young adulthood, her age now only seventeen, she was finally able to be courted by her peers. Her Aunt Millicent offered this to Mary, as if on a silver platter, only to slap her hand away when she reached for it. "You seem too eager to see young men, Mary Elizabeth," Aunt Millicent spoke looking at her niece and then to her brother. "Perhaps she should wait, Joseph. A girl to willing to be courted I find is far too willing to do other things as well."

It was to be the only time her mother spoke up in her daughter's defense, telling her husband, in the privacy of their bed, long after his sister had left, "Let Mary Elizabeth court with a young man, it is time, Joseph." He allowed it, although it was not to be easy for Mary.

"No, not him, his family is not respected, even though they have money. No, not him either, he's not attractive enough. No, he's all wrong for you, too much of a sissy. No, I've never heard anything of his family or their money, I want to see their assets before I allow him to come over and meet me." Everyday, after school, Mary would ask her Aunt Millicent and everyday her Aunt would begin her sentence with the same answer, "No."

When Mary could stand it no more, she stopped asking. "I simply cannot believe no one has asked her to the Spring Ball, it's the social event of the year. I must tell you, Joe, if she is not seen on the arm of a formidable young gentleman soon, I fear she will not be seen at all. Most of the good ones are already taken and have escorts." Mary listened through the cracked door of her bedroom. She wanted to scream at her aunt of the young men she spoken of and had asked permission to see her, and her, Aunt Millicent, wise and all knowing told them "No," for various reasons only known to herself. Her parents watched Aunt Millicent give explanation of how their only child was most likely to end up a spinster, "Oh she will be stuck in this house her whole life, and people will say things about her Joseph, they will call her the crazy spinster daughter of the Baker's!" Mary, hearing this, went to bed.

"Please God, send me a man that doesn't drink or gamble, a young man that thinks I'm pretty and will love me truly all the days of our lives. Send me a man that will give me children, and love them more than all the stars in the sky. Send me someone that I can love, and that wants to be loved just as much as I do. I don't care if he's rich, noble, or comes from a well-to-do family, just make him good and decent. I don't want someone that would never hit me when he's mad or argues over unimportant things such as the weather. Make him patient and smart, and I promise to treasure him forever because I know You made him and sent him just for me." Mary prayed as she knelt at her bedside. She already had an image of the man she wanted to marry in her head, for in a dream she had seen him. What she did not see, because her back was turned from the window, was what came in the night sky. God listened to her prayer and said, "Done," sending a shooting star down just for her.

The next morning, as her father busied himself at baking bread and helping customers make their daily purchases, a young man entered the shop with a list he kept checking and checking again while he stood in line. He was tall, but would not be considered commanding, he wore spectacles to correct his vision and did not smile, holding an odd expression of deep concern. He examined his list for the hundredth time since entering when Mr. Baker asked what he needed. "Order for the Darling Family please, sir," he responded in a mild tone, somewhat unsure of himself.

"Ah yes, are you Fred's son?" Mr. Baker queried, picking their order up from the bin where the daily orders were kept.

"Yes, Frederick Darling the Fourth's son, fourth son, sir," he replied politely, taking the bag filled with bread and tea crumpets, handing Mr. Baker back his payment, counted to the penny.

"I've known your father since we were small boys. Still working for the old Perkins's Savings and Loan?" Mr. Baker already knew the answer, the Darlings were regular customers, but remembering his sister's horrid prediction that his only daughter would die old, alone and unloved, and knowing the family and their assets, he felt this young man might be perfect for Mary.

"No, father's retired sir."

His answers were brief and very respectful. Mr. Baker liked that. "Let me ask you, son, are you well educated?"

'Such a strange question from a baker so early in the morning,' George thought with raised brow, but he replied nonetheless, "Yes sir."

"And what, may I ask, do you do for your living?" Mr. Baker leaned on the counter ignoring all the other customers impatiently waiting for their orders.

"I work in a bank, sir."

Mr. Baker ran over all the acceptable professions his sister had given, lawyer, doctor, politician, business proprietor and banker. 'Perfect a banker,' Mr. Baker thought, and he decided to invite the young man and his mother for afternoon tea. "Mrs. Baker has missed your mother so, why not bring her by and enjoy the lovely spring weather this afternoon? My daughter Mary will be home, it would nice for you two to meet." Mr. Baker was quite pleased with his idea and even more pleased when George smiled and accepted.

"Well, of course I will have to ask my mother, but I think she would be honored with the company on this glorious day, sir."

When his morning rush finished, Joseph turned the store over to his apprentice and went home to tell his happy news to his wife, sister and daughter.

Aunt Millicent was not pleased at all. "I cannot believe you would ask a young man that I have not met over for afternoon tea. You are practically giving Mary away, and if I know anything about young men, and I do, he will think he has been invited to a brothel. He will waltz in here and expect Mary Elizabeth will service him right here in the middle of your parlor! I will not even be able to join them to supervise because I have another appointment and it is too late to cancel." Feeling all her hard work grooming Mary into a wealthy merchant's wife was being thrown out the window, "If you feel you can marry her off better than I..." Millicent stormed from the house with, "I will expect a wedding invitation in no more than three months!"

Mary's father, Mr. Baker, was too impressed with his arrangement to be disheartened by his sister and screamed after her, "It will be two months Millicent!" He turned to see his wife and only daughter giving a strange expression, stunned to hear Millicent's words.

"What does 'service him' mean mother? And would it be improper for me to do that in the parlor?"

Deflated, Mr. Baker lowered his head and said, "You don't have to marry the first man that comes calling, Mary Elizabeth. And Millicent is the one that is not only improper but impolite to speak of the word 'service' in reference to a young lady such as yourself."

Mary Elizabeth would not service George in the parlor that afternoon, but she would marry him, because he was the man she had prayed for.

Aunt Millicent told Mary never to answer the door when a young man calls, "Keep him waiting for your entrance, stand at the top of the stairs out of sight for at least ten minutes. It builds anticipation and makes him think you took extra time to look beautiful just for him." Feeling this would be the perfect way to slap her Aunt Millicent's cheek, Mary, headstrong and eager to have a young man call on her, answered the bell when George rang it. She welcomed them into her parents' home with a polite and gracious smile into the parlor where her mother sat and waited.

George Darling and his mother came to tea that afternoon. They were punctual and polite. Truth be told, Mrs. Darling and Mrs. Baker disliked one another intensely. No one knew why, but it was quite obvious that afternoon when no one said a single word. Mrs. Baker and Mrs. Darling sat alongside of one another in the formal parlor, George to his mother's right and Mary to her mother's left.

George had asked his mother to go to the Baker's for tea the moment he walked in the door of their home, running to where she was in the kitchen and almost jumping for joy, "Please mother, I am told Mr. Baker's daughter is very lovely."

Mrs. Darling was not easily impressed by beauty and retorted, "If she is as lovely as her mother you will not be the least bit interested."

With that in mind already, George sat holding his teacup looking forward at a painting that hung above the piano, as did his mother. Mrs. Baker kept her eyes on the clock, while Mary cast her gaze at George. She wondered in her mind what their children would be like. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen in her life, evident even though he wore spectacles. His posture was correct and he dressed like a banker, even for afternoon tea. They both had the same color hair, dark brown and seemed the same height. His eyes never met hers, and as time dragged on and the painting was memorized he began to look about at anything in the room other than Mary Elizabeth.

"Well, look at the time, 2 o'clock already. I think we should be going. How lovely it was of your husband to invite us over," Mrs. Darling spoke as she rose, signaling to her fourth son to do the same. Where an "I hope we can do this again sometime" should have been inserted, there was only silence as they gathered their coats and hats and made for the door.

Mary also rose, expecting something, anything, to hear his voice, she knew the moment she heard his voice she could be assured that he was the answer to her prayers. Her mother kicked her as Mary attempted to move forward to try to engage him a last minute conversation about the weather. George did not see that, nor did he see the longing in her eyes to be noticed, so he said nothing.

Some say the Lord works in mysterious ways His wonders to perform, and never a truer word was spoken on that day. For at 2:05, when George and his mother were leaving, in stormed Aunt Millicent, out of breath having run all the way from her lawyer's office. "Ah, good. I see I have not missed the company." Aunt Millicent was highly insulted that the Darlings were leaving so early and insisted they come back inside and drink more tea. "The proper hour for tea is one to three, with dinner following promptly at half past six. To leave my brother's wife and his lovely daughter alone for the last hour is rude and unacceptable."

George and his mother did not wish to offend her, and so Aunt Millicent broke the tension and the silence by engaging a woman she felt her equal in conversation, Mrs. Darling. They chatted well past when afternoon tea was properly be finished and into the supper hour. "I've been to Ireland only in the summer months although I have heard it is magnificent in the winter as well."

As George and his mother departed, a chaos of coats, hats and questions filled the foyer of the Baker's home. The Darlings could not stay for dinner even when Millicent insisted, Mrs. Darling giving her reason of wanting to be home for her other three sons, also bachelors living at home, "You know how sons hold on to the apron strings..."

Aunt Millicent inquired when George would call on Mary again following him on his heels out onto the stoop. "I had not asked yet, madam," he responded to a blissful smile lifting the cheeks of Mary.

"You will call on her again tomorrow, after seven o'clock," Millicent commanded and he agreed, tipping his hat to the ladies of the house. With the door closed and the Darlings heading home, Aunt Millicent spun around on her heel and ranted, "Well, you are just lucky I arrived in time to save the day. Do you know the gossip that would have been spread had he not called again?"

Now, Aunt Millicent in no way thought George Darling was the one for Mary, finding him stiff and humorless, not to mention his inappropriate attire. "Who dresses like a banker for afternoon tea?" She continued to criticize his every action at dinner, from the way he drank his tea to the way he fastened the buttons on his coat, "did you notice his hairline Mary, a young man and already it is receding. No, he will be bald by the time he is forty, you mark my words." George was simply not good enough for Mary, and Millicent felt it was her duty to let everyone within earshot know. "And what nerve to call himself a banker, the last time I was at the bank he was no more than a clerk. Remember this, Mary Elizabeth, dressing like a banker does not make you a banker, just as dressing like a proper young lady of good breeding does not make you one..."

As she went on about his choice of spectacles and the color of his tie, Mary dreamed about the babies they would have together. She already named them and picked the months they would be born in. She would, of course, be married in her mother's dress in spring, and they first child would be birthed on Christmas morning.

George Darling was the luckiest man in all of London, for on that day, he had won the heart of one of the most sought-after young ladies in polite society, a young lady whom most young men only dreamt of meeting, let alone of marrying, without ever saying a word to her.

George called, as instructed, the day after afternoon tea and the day after that also. Both times he sat on an armchair and Mary on the other, silent as fog, with Aunt Millicent in the middle, expounding to them both what those of good breeding were to expect and accept in life, not letting one or the other get a word in edgewise. When nine o'clock rolled around on the second night, George courteously excused himself for the evening, asking Mr. Baker, who waited in the kitchen, for a word on the side. After shaking George's hand on his way out, Mr. Baker and Aunt Millicent whispered back and forth in the hall for a moment before joining Mary where she still sat, lost in her daydream about how George, whom she was more than certain, would propose. "My poorest dear, he has broken your heart. It is his loss, and he will suffer the fate of dying a bachelor like all of his brothers..."

Mary looked up to see tears in her Aunt Millicent's eyes, although she did not understand why. Mary rose to her feet with a baffled expression and questioned. "He said he wouldn't be calling again? I was sure he was to propose this very night, if not first thing tomorrow morning."

Mr. Baker told his only daughter, "No, Mary Elizabeth, he only wanted to tell me he would not be calling again," shaking his head in disbelief.

"Why? Did he not like my dress? Or my hair? Or my smile?" Mary asked, touching each part of her as she spoke.

"Your father did not ask dearest, it would have been rude. Your dress is fine dear, and so is your hair, maybe he was intimidated by your perfect smile dear, you do wear it well. But seeing as how he did not feel you worthy of a simple compliment for your efforts, he is undeserving of your company," Aunt Millicent answered before Mr. Baker could utter even a syllable.

"Someone should have asked," Mary demanded, as she fell back into her chair.

"Oh dearest, there are other gentlemen far more attractive and from better stock. Think of his slight as a learning experience," Aunt Millicent comforted Mary as she directed her to bed for her beauty sleep.

Alone in her room, Mary sat at her vanity brushing her lengthy hair the required one hundred strokes. All her dreams of a home filled with perfect love and babies were taken from her. Her face always held the faintest smile, as if just being alive made her happy, but tonight there was no smile, only sadness. She mourned for the children she had already named and the wedding in the spring with the special Christmas gift due in the winter.

On his way home to his mother, Josephine Darling (or the General, as she was called by all who knew her), George Darling felt the same sorrow. For he too had made babies and planned their marriage in his mind with the young lady he and everyone else deemed the fairest of them all.


	2. Chapter 2 The Darling Family

Mild conversation of a sexual nature. (PG)

My Darling Love

Chapter 2 – The Darling Family

"_Like all the best families, we have our share of eccentricities, of impetuous and wayward youngsters and of family disagreements." _-Queen Elizabeth II

George Darling was born the fourth son of Frederick IV and Josephine Darling. He was nicknamed "The Accident," because after having three sons already, Mr. Darling was content and finished having children. But after having three sons, Mrs. Darling wanted a daughter, so then came George. His three older brothers were quite accomplished, all doctors, all heads of their own practices, each in a different field. None of them were married, and their mother was very pleased that no young lady had ever "sunk her claws into them" and took them from her home, for, as she said herself, "A man can never trust a woman when they are at the age where marriage is expected."

Mr. Darling, on the other hand, was proud of his surname, and wanted heirs to maintain his lineage. That and that alone was the only reason why George and his mother were forced to attend afternoon tea with the Bakers. "Josephine Darling, you will put on your coat and escort my youngest son to the Baker home for afternoon tea as it is unlikely George will be brave enough or have enough good sense to use his tongue and make a formidable impression on Mr. Joseph Baker's lovely daughter."

George was the youngest and the least accomplished. He was only a clerk at a bank with no further aspirations of advancement. He was educated, but too serious with money and too resolute on not taking risks to be considered for a promotion. He arrived to work early, the same time, everyday. He ate his lunch at his desk and left at exactly quarter after six o'clock, after the bank closed and all of his balance sheets balanced. To the penny. No one there noticed him and no one talked to him, and that was fine with him. His sheets of stocks and bonds were always correct and as far as he was concerned that was good enough. If he had a more social personality and been willing to suggest riskier investments, he might have gotten a promotion, but he felt small talk was unimportant, and risky investments were bad business, thus accepting his fate in the second row, fifth desk in.

At home, he handled all his family's wealth, investing his father's cash as well as his brothers'. He was conservative with funds and would not put money where he felt there was even the slightest risk for loss. Therefore, the Darlings were not as well off as they might have been, but held good solid investments in slow-growth companies, all the same.

George was easily the most handsome of his brothers, although his mother told him he was the least attractive: "You are pale-faced and thin-lipped, George, with a very weak build, not to mention your hair. You will probably be bald by the time you are thirty and I must tell you, George, I've heard many women speak of you and they do not find your looks desirable." And for that reason alone, he was very shy. His visit to Mary's home was the first he had ever called on a young lady, and he was to be twenty-five in July. Thus, he was also the least experienced socially of all his other brothers, and that was fine with him as well.

Each brother had courted girls when their education or business took them elsewhere away from their mother, but none of them had ever been asked to gentleman's home exclusively to meet a daughter, rumored as exquisite as Mary. Nor would they be allowed to go even if they had been invited, for Mrs. Darling would not hear of it. So, after only his first afternoon at the Bakers', his brothers greeted him upon his return with "Is she as beautiful as we've heard?"

"Mary is the most...her loveliness is just...her face is so...you've never seen anyone so..." Words escaped George and he stuttered to a halt, giving up the attempt to describe what he felt was indescribable. Just as Mary loved him from afar, he too felt the same with several unique differences: George had never been educated as to how to conduct a proper conversation in polite society, a necessary skill for gentlemen of his age.

The only advice his mother gave in that regard was, "In order to talk a woman George, you must know what they are thinking." He reasoned with his own irrefutable logic, "If I am unable to speak with them until I know what they are thinking, how will ever know what they are thinking unless I speak with them?" Therefore, George feared he would embarrass himself by proclaiming anything, let alone love, knowing surely that Mary would never accept someone with his disposition and unappealing appearance. In the company of all women, he was silent, the victim of his own miserable self-image (just as his mother wanted).

Mary had matured in body, but not so much in mind. A child at heart, her dreams never extended to money or expense. She knew she would marry George, and it was only a matter of time before he proposed, "Perhaps tomorrow evening, I shall wear my white blouse and navy blue skirt." In a whimsical way, just like a special outfit in which to receive his ring, she made babies in her mind and decorated her home in the lavish furnishings she saw in a store window on her way home from the grocer.

George Darling was the polar opposite. He too was mature in body, but, unlike Mary, who never thought of grown up things, George was already very mature in mind. Realizing the standard of living a young lady of moderate means could expect, he was the one who sat down at his desk and plotted out the expense of raising those babies and supporting that home. Even though he was sure a wedding to Mary Baker was highly unlikely and foolish to even wish for, he worked on the figures well into the night by candlelight, while the rest of the house was asleep. It was those very pages of notes, where he calculated the savings of cutting out coffee at the office and meat for dinner on Tuesdays and Fridays, that his mother found. And because of those notes, she demanded that he "Break off the courtship with that golddigger immediately, George! A woman should live within her husband's means, and I will not have my youngest son sacrifice his coffee at the office so his wife can run up bills at the dressmaker!"

So, as he had his whole life, his mother's declaration being considered from God Himself, he accepted her demands. He told Mr. Baker he would not return. More so, could not return. "I'm so terribly sorry, sir, but my mother thinks it best if I do not court a young lady born into a family with wealth such as yours. I am only a bank clerk, surely my salary is not enough to support the life of which she is worthy."

Mr. Baker thought Mrs. Darling a fool, her family having far more money in the bank. But, just the same, he appreciated George's honesty in not depriving Mary of other suitors.

While Mary sat, shoulders drooping, at her vanity, George sat at his desk, and both endeavored to forget the names of the children and everything else they both had created in their hearts with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Baker, later on in bed, discussed their spinster daughter, who was to turn eighteen in May, with grave concern and distress, "Perhaps we give people the impression that we are very wealthy, and Mary will be too demanding of a wife..."

Blocks away, Mr. and Mrs. Darling sat in their bed and argued about yet another bachelor son stuck at home. "I expect at least one of my sons to get married this year," shouted the elder Mr. Darling, " and carry on my proud name, and I will beat you until you are dead, woman! Do not interfere with my sons again!"

Aunt Millicent was in bathtub, scheming about which young, rich, unattached gentleman was going to swoop down and win Mary's heart, rescuing her from moderate means.

In the morning, when George came down for breakfast, he found his mother sitting with an angry scowl on her face staring at nothing. Her eye was bruised, most likely from the impact of Mr. Darling's fist upon it the night before when she told him again that their oldest son should marry before the youngest. "You should accept our eldest son that is fifteen years older than George and will NEVER get married because of you!"

George nodded to his brothers already present at breakfast when Mr. Darling entered with his paper and sat down. The senior Mr. Darling was a tall man who had an imposing build, with same receding hairline he had had since he was twenty-one, proof George would not be bald, for his father was well over sixty and had been married for forty years with four sons. He ruled his house, his sons and his wife with the iron fist of discipline, and was just as violent with his fists with his family as he had been collecting outstanding debts owed to the Savings & Loan he had recently retired from.

"Now George, your mother told me that you are not to see Mary Elizabeth Baker again, but I think it would be best if you continue the courtship. I will see at the very least one of my sons get married" here he glared at the other three "and give me grandchildren with my last name before I am dead. She is by far the loveliest young lady and a fine choice for a wife. Her family is not one I would call wealthy, and I think your mother was in error to say that Mary would need a finer standard of living than the one she herself now enjoys. All window dressing, son, always done when young ladies are trying to snag a husband. Nothing to worry about. As a matter of fact, I think you should go over there on your way to the bank and ask for her hand. Best not to delay a proposal, a pretty young lady as herself is not at a loss for admirers, and most young women of proper breeding will accept the first offer on principle alone. Now, I'm sure you have no ring to offer, and for a lady, even from her father's moderate means, will expect one, so here you may use this ring. And George, make sure you are on your knees when you ask."

It was his mother's ring that his father presented him with. George looked down and saw where his father had pried it from her finger, leaving that finger bruised as well.

George knew his father beat his mother; he had witnessed it with his own eyes from time to time his entire life. Mr. Frederick Darling the Fourth was a heavy drinker and a gambler and cursed by the devil with a bad temper. When he lost money in one of his many failed wagers, he would come home drunk and beat Mrs. Darling horribly, causing her to be bedridden for days. That reason alone made George convinced that it was not right for a man to drink, gamble or ever lay a hand on his wife. He had made that very promise to his mother that he would be different from his father in those matters, walking home from the Baker's that first day he met Mary in the flesh, his vow made her laugh, "The same wicked blood that pumps through that man's veins pumps through your George, I wouldn't be so sure."

George wanted to decline his father's ring, preferring to leave it on his mother's finger, as it was her mother's before her. However, he took it out fear of his father. "Thank you, father, I'm sure Miss Baker will wear it proudly."

The dread of her rejection terrified him more than his father. In addition, he didn't even know how propose marriage, never having seen it done. George put the idea aside on his way to work, and did not stop by her home in the morning, nor did he in the evening when he procrastinated further. "I'll go tomorrow, yes tomorrow morning. No, I have to balance my ledger, I have to be in work early and it would be rude to call on her unannounced. It will have to wait till the evening. No, I am to get a haircut in the evening, I cannot ask a woman for her hand without being groomed..." He was home, right on time, to his mother's relief who was standing on the stoop waiting for him. "George, let me speak with your father again. I can tell by your face you have been fretting over this pressure to marry all day, let me see if I can sway your father..."

That night, as the house was still and quiet, George remained awake, writing down by candlelight his best ideas as to how to ask for a woman's hand. He heard his father enter, quite intoxicated and angry, especially after his wife's opening statement: "George did not go and ask that Baker girl to get married because like I told you Fred, he is not ready for marriage!"

That was certainly not what George had in mind for his mother to say when she offered to sway his father. He thought she meant to nicely ask his father to assist his youngest son, perhaps a few lessons on how to charm a lady to the altar. The house was soon full of the normal sounds of their argument, raised voices and the breaking of crockery.

In the morning, with his brothers drinking their coffee and eating their eggs, with their father reading the paper, George's mother lay in bed, beaten within an inch of her life, for as Mr. Baker had told her once before already, "Do not interfere with my sons."

Every day when he returned from work, his father would inquire after Mary Elizabeth Baker, and every day George would make up an excuse as to why he had not asked for her hand. "It was raining today."

Mr. Darling held the same qualms the Bakers did about their child and marriage. He absolutely would not allow the fate of all his sons being failures in their manhood. George was the only son with a prospective bride in plain sight, and truth be told, Mr. Darling loved the thought of his grandchildren born with Darling as their last name having a woman as pretty as Mary as their mother. His old business associates and all the fellows at the pub were already jealous and rather shocked when he informed them his youngest son had the fine luck of having Mr. Baker's only daughter land in his lap. And nothing was going to take that pride or those grandchildren from him.

Mr. Frederick Darling the Fourth stood and looked out his kitchen window dragging George by the collar with him, "Is it raining today George?" It wasn't, and so with George's concession that it was a fine sunny Sunday morning, Mr. Darling yanked his fourth son, whom he still held by the collar over to the Baker's, unannounced.

With his mother's engagement ring, George was forced to get down on bended knee in front of the entire room, Mr. and Mrs. Baker, and Aunt Millicent, and ask for Mary's hand in marriage with his father glaring down at him. George didn't know the words and was silent moving his head back and forth trying to force some sound from his mouth, with his father tapping his shoe loudly next to where George knelt. The small glimmer of hope, that maybe his father was correct, that on principle alone Mary would have to accept his proposal, George raised his head to Mary, only to lose his nerve when he saw her serious expression.

"Perhaps George does not want to ask marriage of Mary?" Mrs. Baker whispered to her sister-in-law Millicent, confirming Mary's concern that George was not interested in being her husband, leaving her with a seriously confused expression as he clutched her left hand in his.

Nevertheless, his touch was so gentle and adoring, his palm soft, not the hands of a laborer but the hands of a gentleman. She gazed upon his face and thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen, a well-kept appearance with peaceful eyes and kissable lips.

"I told Mary she should never wear a striped blouse it makes her look portly," Aunt Millicent whispered to her brother, watching Mr. Darling's fourth son on his knees in his parlor with his only daughter standing before him. Mary heard her aunt's comment and looked downward, her seriousness now fled into gloom, that her incorrect choice of blouse was to rob her of George forever.

"George, everyone is waiting..." Mr. Darling prompted into his son's ear, and George mindless of his action, slipped his mother's ring onto Mary's finger without asking.

As it turned out, George didn't have to ask, for Mary nodded her head happily as the ring touched her fingertip, increasing the speed at which her head bobbed up and down the further it went along till it was completely and properly place on her hand.

"Good, well done then. A summer wedding I will presume," Mr. Darling suggested, pleased with his match making ability.

"Yes, summer. Best to get these two love birds married," Mr. Baker concurred.

George remained on his knees, with Mary standing before him, each memorizing the other's face. In their minds, they were already assigning parts from the other to their unborn children waiting in heaven. Mary rebuilt her dream home and George decided to not have meat on Wednesdays, just to be safe, while Aunt Millicent raised her hand to her head and fainted after proclaiming, "A young lady of proper breeding should never accept the first proposal of marriage she receives, on principle alone!"

Wasting no further time, Mr. Darling pulled George up by the collar and dragged him home. "Father of the bride pays, so I'll not be expecting any bills, but I will be expecting a fancy party for my youngest son and his new bride, Mr. Baker," he shouted as they descended the front steps, with George tripping over his own feet.

Mary and her mother hugged as she was congratulated on earning the title fiancée, for essentially doing nothing, aside from looking pretty on an armchair in their formal parlor.

Mr. Baker helped his sister to her feet, the sister that was already fuming. "I cannot believe you would allow your only daughter to marry that young man after I specifically told you he is not wealthy enough! And he did not even ask for her hand! He just assumed she was willing! How very rude and presumptuous of him, and this girl you think so highly of allowed it!" she blustered on while fixing on her coat and hat.

"His money does not matter to me for I love him and being his wife is what I want more than anything in this world," Mary finally spoke, already wearing her mother's wedding dress and walking down the aisle in her mind.

"Foolish girl, you will see all too soon that money is the most important thing -- far more important than love."

The Darlings arrived home, and it was announced to their family that the last-born son would be the first married in the summer. "You should all take a lesson from George: choose a girl, get married and have grandchildren for me and your mother! I tell you boys right now, there is no way I'm keeping three bachelors in my home, too scared to be parted from their mommy!"

With that said, Mr. Darling led his now-favorite son into his private den. "George, being a husband will require much more than paying the bills and keeping a proper home. You will, I mean absolutely must, have children with your wife."

'Plain and simple enough,' George thought.

"Do you know how to have children?" This was where it was to get very tricky for a young man who had no experience with women. Too shy to court any others, and too proud a gentleman and devout churchgoer to go to a prostitute, George was a virgin. A virgin who had never been kissed. His brothers and he never spoke of such things. Truth be told, George and his brothers rarely spoke to each other at all. He had no idea on how to make a baby or what came once the newlyweds retired to their honeymoon suite other than what he had read in the medical books his parents kept in their library for reference and study.

"Now once you marry that girl, she's yours to have whenever you want. What I do with your mother is, when we first were married I told her what I expected and made her do it, because that is her duty as a wife. She doesn't have anything else to do all day except make you happy. That's her job." George sat and listened intently to his father telling him he had the right to drink and gamble, "It's your money to do with as you please once you pay the bills." And went on more alarmingly with, "If that Baker girl ever gets out of line, you smack her one to show her you are the man of the house. Only wives that are beaten are well-disciplined and proper."

His father rambled on for an hour ending with "the talk" as he called it. Mr. Darling felt disgusted to know even one of his sons had never the "pleasure," as he called, it of a woman's company. "I just hope your brothers aren't saving it for their wedding nights..."

Mr. Darling grew more annoyed and irritated, as it was his turn to think of the correct words and phrases to explain a natural act between a man and woman. Before he decided a man-to-man conversation would be best for his youngest, Mr. Darling told George he was to take his son to the seedy part of town to get some familiarity with a woman of loose virtue, causing George to cough, choke and spit out his tea. "Na, that's not a good way. That Baker girl is probably a virgin. SHE'D BEST BE ONE with all this fuss and nonsense! You can't have at a girl that's had plenty and do the same with your pure and pristine bride," Mr. Darling conceded swigging on a bottle.

"Alright George, listen to me because I'm your father and I'm going to tell you how it really is. Once you're married, on you wedding night, you will go back to you honeymoon suite. She'll be wearing some pretty frilly frock and you should compliment her on it. Tell her to take it off so you can see her naked and you can see what you married. Because, George, even though I drink and gamble, I never cheated on your mother. If I want that pleasure from a woman, she is the one I take it from; I paid for her so she is mine to have when I want. And you being my son, you will do the same." George did not need to be told not to cheat, he already was sure he never would. But to hear that even his awful father held that respect for a married woman assured him adultery was a grievous sin in the eyes of God.

"Once she's bare, tell her to lay on the bed. Being your first time too, you'll probably be ready just looking at her, and you'd better know what I speak of." George did have an idea about that part, and so he nodded with a seriously curious face to his father to go on. "Tell her to spread her legs and then climb on top of her. Once you are there you have to stick it into her. She's got a hole down their in her womanly region and if you're doing it right you won't have any trouble finding it. Now, being a virgin she is going to cry. All women cry when in the first act, George, mostly due to fear. Women will tell you it hurts, but that's because they want sympathy. If she gets to carrying on too much, smack her one and tell her to be quiet. You may even need to smack her if she moves around underneath you too much. Women can wiggle away from you, or shift about complaining. You need to teach her that she's there in your bed to service you, and only you."

Mr. Frederick Darling the fourth gazed at his son to make sure he was still listening, George was staring back, waiting with bated breath for his father to continue, so he did. "But being a proper lady like her father and mother says she is, she will already know to just lie there and accept you being her husband on top of her. Now George, you have to move in order for it to work, you can't just lie there with it in her, because you'll never get anything out of it just being still. I'm not going to tell you how to move; you will see what I mean the first time you stick it in her. The only thing I will tell you is it feels better if you move really fast. Plus it will be over quicker that way and give you can your wife some relief of your weight as she'll probably be holding her breath the whole time. Make sure you complete yourself inside of her. You'd better know what that means as well, George. Trust me, it feels wonderful inside of a woman instead of in your hand -- that's what good about being a man. But George, you only do that when you are making me grandchildren. Understand? So there you have it. Its real simple and any fool can figure it out. If you want a baby you leave it in her. If you don't want a baby, before you get there, you know what I mean George; you pull it out and finish with your hand! What's polite for a proper young lady like Miss Baker is you excusing yourself to the bathroom and doing it there so she don't have to watch, but if you ask me there is no need the man of the house has to be racing to the bathroom all the time. George, you'd better make that Baker girl jerk you off." Mr. Darling sneered rather maddened as he made his last sentiment. He then glared at George, wanting to make sure his fourth son understood his direction to the syllable.

"BUT GEORGE," he shouted, "Until she's got a baby growing in her belly, you leave it in her. NO IF ANDS OR BUTS BOY!" He cooled slightly and continued on as if he had not just screamed at the top of his lungs the moment before, "Now, when you are done with her, tell her to dress, never let your wife sleep without her clothes, she'll get sick and probably being such a fragile creature catch her death. And never, and I mean never, put it in your wife more than once a day."

George was utterly perplexed, not to mention mystified, by his father's crude explanation of the sacred act of consummation and procreation. Mr. Darling referred to Mary as fragile creature that would catch her death if she were bare too long; at the same time telling George to ride on top of her quickly while she's crying. And the thought of hitting Mary at all, let alone when she was in the middle of "servicing" him for that was her job, made George feel sick. In his mind as his father spoke, he envisioned Mary turning blue from lack of oxygen while he pounded away on her, failing to complete the act, a victim of nerves and doubt, for George knew himself what made him hard and ready, but he also knew far better what would make him soft and limp. Full of questions, without the courage to ask, all he could manage was, "Is it ever to be a pleasant experience for the woman?"

George had not finished his query and his father already laughed loudly, "Who cares, George? That's her job. A woman only has one job to you, and that's it. Just like you work hard all day, hating what you do, she will do the same, only at night in the privacy of your bed."

When George left his father's den and went to his room, a newly engaged man, he had a different vision imprinted in his mind, one that could not be solved by totting numbers. He tried to imagine being on top of his lovely wife, while she wept as he made his pace inside of her, and from that a child of their love would be created. With no comfort found in his mind, he began to figure the expense of her being ill and on her deathbed from lying underneath him on his bed without her clothes for too long.


	3. Chapter 3 Lessons of Being a Lady

Mild conversations of a sexual nature (PG)

My Darling Love

Chapter 3 – Lessons of Being a Lady

"_Fidelity is a virtue peculiar to those who are about to be betrayed."_

_-Ambrose Bierce_

Mary Elizabeth Baker never thought about the act necessary for creating a baby, nor the happy smile most men carried on their faces when they left their homes, heading to their place of business in the morning. No one ever spoke a word of it, not her parents nor her Aunt Millicent nor any of her proper lady friends, nor her improper friends, for that matter. Therefore, she had no idea there was such a thing as sex, or 'servicing' a man.

But as she retired to her room that night, her mother, the silent accomplice in her plight to find the proper husband, knocked and entered. They sat on her bed for what seemed like forever without speaking, Mrs. Baker gingerly touching Mary's well-defined face while staring adoringly into her daughter's bewildered eyes. As Mary offered her mother a yawn to break the silence and hint of her fatigue and desire for sleep, Mrs. Baker gave voice. "Mary, being a wife will require you to fulfill many different duties. It is more than keeping a house and raising a proper family. You will have a duty to your husband, a very important duty that no one speaks of, at least not young ladies of proper breeding."

Mary was just as baffled as George was, but luckily, Mrs. Baker would use more tact and a loving touch when describing what was to happen on her wedding night.

"The summer will be upon us soon, and, as I will expect a July wedding, the days will pass by quickly. Now I must talk about what your husband will expect from you on your wedding night. Your Aunt Millicent has informed me she would not discuss such things until the night before your wedding, but you are my daughter, not hers, and so I feel once this is behind us, we can plan your blessed event without you having any questions of what will come when you leave this home and go on to your husband's."

She looked at her daughter, her hand on her face, calmly stroking her delicate features. "On your wedding night, when you retire to your honeymoon suite, you will dress in the special night clothes your Aunt Millicent and I will purchase especially for you. It is an exquisite ensemble we've both had our eyes on in the emporium on Fifth for some time. You will be a thing of beauty and splendor for George. I'm sure you will take his breath away, but I drift. You and George, your husband, will retire privately to your bedchamber and consummate your marriage." It sounded simple enough to Mary, the only word she was unfamiliar with was consummate, but thinking it a fancy adult word for sleep and dreaming about her new outfit just for George, she nodded to her mother to continue.

"Mary Elizabeth, a woman holds within her a special lock, as the one on a door leading to a new world of discovery and adventure. But this door cannot be unlocked and revealed until you are married in a church in the eyes of God. Then and only then can you see what lies on the other side hidden away. Your husband has the key to that lock and on your wedding night, he will turn it inside of you for the first time."

'How romantic' Mary thought, she held within her a lock and George was the only man alive that had the key. It must be fate they met that day, for had they not; she would never have found the man with her special key.

"Now, my dearest, I will not lie to you. It may hurt many times when he turns the key, as the door will not open without his efforts. But once it is opened, the pain will pass." Her mother smiled and embraced her quickly to ease in advance the pain she would feel later.

"When will I see what is on the other side, mother?" Mary asked, so ready to be unlocked by George. "Only George will see for now, maybe later you will see, but at first only George. And Mary, you must not allow George to unlock you before you are married. He seems like a respectable gentleman, and I'm sure he knows the proper young lady you are, so there is no worry he will try to enter you before your wedding, but just the same. George must not consummate with you before you are justly wed."

Mary's mind was running faster than she could keep up. George had the key to her lock, and he was to unlock her only on their wedding night. Consummate meant sleeping to her, so George was not allowed to sleep in bed with Mary before they were justly wed. 'How odd,' Mary thought, 'I must never allow George to be overtired before we are married, for is he gets sleepy while visiting my father's home, he may ask to nap with me and that would be inappropriate.' Not that Mary would ever allow George to nap in her parlor let alone in her bed with her before they were husband and wife, therefore her mind eased at her own gross misconceptions.

"Have you ever seen what's on the other side of the door, Mother? Is it wonderful?" Mary was still intrigued by her lock and had many questions, none of which were its whereabouts in her body. "Why was it only George who gets to see it?"

Mrs. Baker watched as her daughter asked questions she was unprepared to answer, remembering her own mother's explanation that was taken as the word of God and left unquestioned. "Mary, the adventure and pleasure are only for your husband not for you. That is why the term 'servicing' is commonly used. For you it is a duty, a job almost. But do not fret; your own adventure will come when you miss your first monthly," her mother responded rising from the bed.

Maybe Mrs. Baker was not that much better at explaining procreation to her only daughter. "Why would I miss my monthly?" Mary asked, bewildered.

Mary's mother told her no more questions, "We will cross those bridges together, dearest, when we reach them," and assured her in time she would see for herself, adding, "Best not to act surprised when you see George unclothed as the day he was born, he may get insulted you think him inadequate in his manhood, men are very sensitive about their...personal measure."

Mary went not only wide-eyed but also stared with her mouth gaped open at the thought of George without his business suit on, let alone herself insulting his personal measure, whatever that was. "He will not wear pajamas to bed, mother?"

Mrs. Baker quickly took her leave to the door with, "No, Mary, at least for your wedding night he will not, and you will be unclothed, too. Please don't fight your husband when he wishes to visit what is hidden behind that door at any time in your marriage, for as your lock only works with his key, his key unlocks many other doors elsewhere."

More baffling than whatever it was hidden behind the door and the thought that George had the master key for many locks, her mother never told her how to make a baby. She knew she was to consummate with George on her wedding night, she knew George had a personal measure she was in danger of insulting, and she knew both he and she would be unclothed. What came between sleeping and baby was what she wanted desperately to understand. Therefore, with no one else to speak with and wanting not only Mrs. Darling's engagement ring upon her finger but the other that came with a husband, Mary decided to ask her best friend Penny, who was newly married only a week.

And so she did, as they walked in the park, the only place to which Mary could escape and see all the friends her family felt unworthy of her presence. "Mary, you are so naive and innocent. What did you think was going to happen on your wedding night? But more interestingly, where did you think babies came from?" her friend Penny asked as they strolled along.

"I never thought about it. I guess I just thought once you were married, you asked God for one and he would send it, like He sent George."

Her last comment made Penny roll her eyes and giggle. Doing her best Aunt Millicent impression Penny voiced, "I cannot believe of all the eligible bachelors in London, George Darling is to be your husband!" pompous and supercilious as the woman herself would have done it, Aunt Millicent had said the same thing. "Anyway, your mother is half right, you do have a lock within you and George does have the key. But to tell you George is the only one that will see the adventure and pleasure within is incorrect. My mother told me that when a man and woman are together in a private manner everything they do together is just that, private. So what I do with my husband is my business, and what you will do with George will be your business. If you both love each other, it will wonderful. There is nothing like it in the world." Penny made more sense, but still did not explain the basics of how the act was done.

Seeing the mystery and wonder in Mary's eyes, Penny pulled her to a bench and sat down, face to face and whispered, so no other could hear. She answered Mary's dilemma, "its called making love. Have you ever seen a man naked?" Mary shook her head quickly with hers shut tightly as if one would appear before her just by thinking about it. "Well, on your wedding night, you will. They are very different from us, as I'm sure you can assume without explanation. With that being said, knowing what you have and knowing he has something different, that difference is the part of him that he will put inside your womanhood."

Mary stood and gasped never hearing such nonsense before. Penny yanked her back to her seat and continued with a smirk and mild chuckle, "I'm not kidding, and it does hurt the first few times as you are not used to that sort of contact. He will move within you and leave something there that makes a baby. And I should know, I'm having one myself in the winter."

With Penny's news, both good and bad, Mary went home to her parents with thoughts of George naked and being in pain when she should be happy and excited. A few blocks away, George sat at his desk, second row, fifth in, and also was contemplating his required actions on that fateful night, just as nervous and uninformed as she was, he put the thought out of his mind and to his work. With no tasks before her, she was not so lucky. She wrung her hands until they ached, and then sat at her vanity insistently brushing her hair and fixing it back up to keep herself busy.

That evening, with their educations of marriage complete, both families met at the Darling residence for a dinner and formal introduction. Just as they had when they had afternoon tea, everyone sat around the dinner table in silence. Mr. and Mrs. Darling, their four sons, Mr. and Mrs. Baker, Mary and Aunt Millicent sat and ate casting their eyes to their plates. From the outside looking in, it was obvious who was the bride, but without knowledge that George was the only one of his brothers who wore spectacles, one would not be able to distinguish between the lots. They all wore the same suit and ate in rhythm. Mary sat in between her aunt and her father, while George sat on the other end of the table, the last next to his mother. Every once in a long while, Mary would gaze down to where George sat, offering a smile and hoping for one in return, only to have her leg pinched under the table by Aunt Millicent, who told her with her eyes to concentrate of the food before her and not her fiancé.

They were already engaged a week, and had already had "the talk", and were already planning their blessed event, and no one except Mary and George made any notice that they had never spoken a word to one another. After dinner was dessert and after dessert was small talk in the formal parlor. Not much at small talk, George sat next to his mother in silence. "You will sit next to me in the parlor, and be absolutely silent George. With your foolish mouth, Mary will most likely be running for the door." Feeling her fiancé did not care much for small talk, Mary sat next to her mother in silence also. "I'm sure he is just overwhelmed by your beauty, Mary, there will be plenty of talk when you are married." Mr. Darling did most of the talking, "And let me tell you something else about those damn plumbers always upping the costs on their work..." as well as Aunt Millicent, "Sometimes things are worth paying more for than others and have strong pipes to the bath is one of them," and Mr. Baker, "I do most of the handiwork myself in my own home." Soon there were no words were left, the Bakers took their coats and hats and left as well.

The Bakers took a carriage home, and Joseph and Millicent's further discussion of plumbing and pipes calmed Mary. But that all changed when Aunt Millicent assured her parents "This marriage will never happen," after she believed Mary asleep in her bed. "That family is awful, did you see how they ate. And the tea served after dinner, cheap, not one serves guests of their son's intended, but rather the staff that services them. Do you really want your daughter married to a man that comes from such a family? Our mother always told me, Joseph, if a gentleman is not married by the time he is twenty-two there is something either wrong with him or his family. Well, the Darlings have four unwed sons far beyond that age and that tells me the reason is both. Think of dearest Mary Elizabeth! Do you want her married to a man that treats his wife like a piece of furniture that Mrs. Darling is? You know full well, Joseph, men treat their wives like their own fathers treated their mothers." Mr. And Mrs. Baker's only desire was that their only daughter did not die a spinster, but feeling Aunt Millicent was wise and all knowing they agreed. "What do you suggest, Millicent?" Mrs. Baker asked.

"Mary must break this engagement with George immediately if not sooner. I will have a young gentleman here by Sunday after church. He is a new lawyer at the firm that handles all my accounts, and he saw Mary at the market the other day and has requested to meet her. I did not tell him of her engagement, so it must be annulled by tomorrow at the latest. So tomorrow, you will take her to the Darlings and make up an excuse for a moment alone with Mr. Darling," (here she gave her direction to Mr. Baker), "when he leaves George alone with Mary, she must return the ring and tell him their engagement is over. It is considered proper for a young lady also to slap his face and tell him to never speak with her again."

Mr. Baker nodded his head in agreement, "What should she say? I mean before she strikes him? And is that really necessary? George seems a little weak, she might bruise him."

Aunt Millicent thought about it for a moment before responding with the required cruel remarks to discourage George from following after her once she had rejected him. "Any of those will do, but if you still want the Darlings to patronize your shop, I would just have her say she does not love him, that always works. And as far as the slap goes, Joseph, she absolutely must. She must seem angry that he wasted her time with his silly proposal keeping her from more respectable and worthy gentlemen more fitting to her liking. Not to mention, a slap will make it appear that the engagement was broken because of George being a inadequate fiancé, as opposed to Mary being an improper young lady."

Mary listened through the crack in the door like she always did when her parents and Aunt Millicent spoke of her privately. She would _never_ tell George those horrible reasons to break the engagement and would absolutely not tell him she did not love him, for he was the only man she would ever love. To slap him or strike him would break her heart as well as his, so she would not do that either, even if her father held a knife to her throat and threatened her life.

But alas, later on, just like Aunt Millicent's rules, Mary was forced to obey under the duress that if she did not comply, she would be sent to her third cousin's estate in Scotland. Her father gave her some mercy as he saw her heart was broken as well as her spirit, offering, "You don't have to hit him, Mary Elizabeth, only tell him you do not wish to marry a man who is obviously still tied about his mother's apron strings."

The next morning, her father escorted her to the Darlings, and just like Aunt Millicent commanded, Mr. Baker asked Mr. Darling for a moment aside. Making small talk in the den, George was left alone with Mary. They sat in silence, he on a chair she on the sofa. He raised his hands from his knees several times trying to say something, but could think of nothing but, "Lovely weather for spring."

"Yes, lovely weather for spring," she repeated.

"Sunny morning with warm weather," he stated the obvious, nodding to the floor, terrified to meet her gaze.

"Yes, sunny morning with warm weather," she repeated the obvious; glancing between him and the rug he stared at.

"Not a cloud in the sky, I don't think it will rain until later in the week." He tried as hard as he could and believed he failed when she again repeated word for word what he said in agreement.

She only repeated his words for she, too, was at a loss of how to tell the man she loved more than life itself that this would be the last time they were to speak, wanting to say something he would remember, soothe the ache he would surely feel inside, even if it was to be nothing more than disappointment. She finally blurted, "It would be wonderful to stroll in the park on a day like today."

Like she had done, he repeated her words, changing them slightly to give himself the courage to ask her his first question of many. "I-I-I love to stroll in the park on day like today." He glanced quickly to see her face, and she hearing him say the word "love" already had her eyes on him with an adoring smile.

"Yes, I also love to stroll in the park on days such as these."

"Would you like to go for a stroll in the park with me?" he questioned, tilting his head outward to see her face as she answered.

"Yes, I would," she nodded, holding her smile, as George now wore one himself, only a little less joyful than hers, rather bashful, but a grin of contentment just the same.

George was up in a moment with her coat and offered her his arm, which she accepted like a lady. "Should we tell them where we are going? I don't want you to be in trouble for leaving with a man unescorted by your chaperone," George pondered while opening the front door to his parents' house. Mary looked to where her father was deep in a heated conversation with Mr. Darling and replied, "No, you are my fiancé who will become my husband in a few weeks, and it is only the park."

They were out the door and down the sidewalk heading to the park still arm and arm as Mr. Darling screamed "WHAT!"

A livid Frederick Darling stalked into the parlor where George and Mary had just sat. Mr. Baker followed behind shocked to find them missing. They looked to one another and then to the coat rack where their coats also went missing. "I believe they went for a stroll in the park together," Mrs. Darling said, as her husband demanded their location. An hour and a half later when they returned, both Mr. and Mrs. Darling, along with Mr. and Mrs. Baker with Aunt Millicent, sat waiting for them. But instead of seeing a distraught face on George and an equally somber face on Mary, they entered giggling and smiling cuddling close together like two young lovers madly in love.

Once away from the house, and alone together they found the perfect match in each other. Even though they had little in common, they had the same likes where it mattered. They both liked broccoli and hated peas. They both enjoyed classical music as opposed to opera. They both played the piano, they both enjoyed reading, they both wanted three children, one girl and two boys, and they both wanted more than anything in the world to spend the rest of their lives together. They strolled in harmony down the cobblestone path arm and arm. Where there once was silence, there now was chitter chatter and laughter. "My brothers are so envious that a young lady so attractive as yourself would want to spend time with me."

Mary was puzzled by his comment and returned his compliment, "Why would I not want to spend time with a man so handsome as yourself, your strong arm alone warrants my attention," she almost sang as she leaned her head into his shoulder, giving her best flirtation that made George blush and nervously fix his spectacle up on his nose.

And there in the park, under an oak tree, George and Mary kissed for the first time. They sat on a bench to rest, and smiled lovingly to one another. Then he pecked her lips without asking. With no warning, he just leaned in and stole a very quick kiss, so quick that she was unsure it had really happened. As she thought about asking if, in fact, he had just kissed her, he kissed her again. Mary had no time to close her eyes, so she looked at him with her pink lips full and wanting.

George was so nervous, never having kissed anyone before and was not sure if he had performed well enough under pressure to impress her. She, just as unkissed and clueless, waited. He dipped his head in once more, hoping beyond hope, that she would want more from him, and she did. She tilted her head to his with her lips slightly parted to encourage a deeper kiss than the pecks he had stolen. "Close your eyes," she directed as then their lips slowly, pressed gently together and remained locked in place for what seemed like forever. It was the most wonderful kiss, and would be that kiss in particular that would be hidden in the right hand corner of her mocking mouth for the rest of her life as George put it there on that sunny morning.

They returned to his home with all the anticipation of a young couple in love and headed to the altar. But what they found inside his home was utter despair and heartache. The moment they entered, Mary's parents and Aunt Millicent rose. "Give George the ring off your finger this very moment, Mary Elizabeth!" her father commanded her in a hostile tone.

She looked to her mother with loss in her eyes as tears filled them, pleading silently for protection and aid in her plight. She had forgotten the day's intention on their stroll and in their kiss. "No, I will not."

Mary stood firm and would not comply, so her aunt Millicent did the only thing she could to save her niece from a life of love and happiness with Mary's darling love. Millicent yanked the ring from Mary's finger and thrust it forth to George. "The engagement has been canceled. You are a weak and a simple minded fool, George Darling, and you'd be better off marrying the grocer's daughter then the daughter of a well respected and highly patronized baker," whatever that meant. She slapped George in the face, as polite society called for, and then grabbed Mary by the arm, who was now hysterically crying begging George's forgiveness, and lead her out of the house and away.

George was a man, but not himself without tears, and he shed them that day in his room away from his parents, who called Mary shameful names for her actions against him. "Ha! My son, marry the daughter of the grocer? At least she would not allow a man who is not her husband to take her for long walks alone in the park. She's a whore, George. At least she let you into her undergarments, I'm sure, now you are no longer a virgin at the very least!"

They told him she wanted to break the engagement, and her promise, but he did not believe it. If she had, why would she have been so lovely and kissed him. "I told you George, the daughter of Joseph Baker is just a filthy little whore who will let any man who compliments her pretty face take her to bed. Only a kiss, you are a fool, if you were faster with your hands you might have seen heaven on that park bench. You were just practice for the bigger fish she is to fry tomorrow." His father yelled to George as he refused to come down to supper.

"You'll see, George, you are better off without that rotten girl the Baker's and that hideously old washer woman in her fancy dress calls a young lady of good breeding!"


	4. Chapter 4 Out the Bedroom Window

Rated NC-17 – smutty content

My Darling Love

Chapter 4 – Out the Bedroom Window

"_Marriages are made in heaven and consummated on Earth."_

_-John Lyly_

Just as George's father had told him, Mary was to be married to "a bigger fish" -- a wealthy lawyer from old money whose name was not important to George. All he could think about was that perfect kiss and Mary and all that he could have been as her husband.

Mary was trapped in her home and had the same problem, thinking of the many happy years she should have spent as George's wife. She met the "bigger fish" on Sunday and he asked permission of her father on Monday, swearing to him the undying loyalty of the wallet, "I've never seen a more attractive young lady, yes I think she will do rather nicely for my wife. I must have her, Mr. Baker, and to show you how sincere I am, let me pay you a dowry for her hand. Now, would you prefer one lump sum or monthly payments after the wedding?"

She had never spoken a word to George and loved him; the bigger fish never spoke a word to Mary, but her emotion was very different. She hated him. She hated everything about him, even his moustache. She hated the feeling of being a piece of property that was to be bought and sold, complete with haggling the amount Mr. Baker had written on his notepad listing the asking price of her hand. Mary had overheard their whispering, the bigger fish regarding her broken engagement as reason she should be marked as "clearance" or "cash and carry," and her father, with the help of Aunt Millicent, reassuring the other man that she was "as pure as freshly fallen snow."

"Oh no, she is still intact as young unmarried lady should be," holding firm on his price.

Miserable and strong-minded, Mary locked herself in her room and refused to come out. Her mother cried, her Aunt Millicent threatened, and her father sat at the kitchen table hanging his head. Aunt Millicent suggested the couple be married as quickly as possible. "Once she is married, she will see we were correct, and once she sees what the comfort living in wealth and riches can provide, she will go back to being our Mary Elizabeth once again."

Therefore, instead of having a three-month engagement, as polite society requested, it was only a month. Aunt Millicent met with the bigger fish's mother and went over the plan for the blessed day. They picked the most expensive flowers and gowns, the cuisine was just as fancy as the cake selected and the date was set. It was to be the grandest event in all of London, and everyone who was anyone -- at least to Millicent -- was invited.

The postman dispatched the invitations, and just to be cruel, Aunt Millicent addressed and sent one to George Darling at his work. "Do not worry over a scene Joseph," Millicent told her brother as she licked the stamp herself, "I just want to make sure he knows she is completely off the market. That fool let a fine lady slip through his fingers, and he deserves to suffer the heartbreak." It was a nasty trick, and it was to backfire on her, for when George read the date, instead of kicking himself silly; he marked his calendar and packed his suitcase.

So there Mary Elizabeth Baker stood, not in her mother's dress, but another purchased just for this occasion, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. The wedding dress worthy of royalty, it had all the beadwork and intricate embroidery complete with a long flowing train that ran out her bedroom door and down the stairs fit for the princess her parents and aunt believed she was, on the brink of being married to a prince in society's circle.

She cried everyday in preparation for her wedding, and today was no different. As her bridesmaids danced around her humming and giggling, she stared into her full length mirror, wondering, if she slit her wrists, how long it would take her Aunt to remove the dress unbuttoning at least one thousand tiny pearls that ran down from neck to back. In her imagination, she could hear her Aunt Millicent gasp in terror, "Quickly, or the blood will ruin that dress!"

Her parents beamed with pride at the choice of groom, so much more appropriate than her previous fiancé, for the bigger fish was very wealthy, and "money was very important."

Her Aunt Millicent and all her bridesmaids that had been called to morning tea left Mary alone when they shouldn't have, for just as her bedroom door closed, pebbles hit the window.

Mary went to window, curious as to which caller was so rude, throwing up the shades. She slid the windowpane up and shifted her body halfway out to get her best look at the street below. There was George Darling, suitcase packed, standing there! He had prepared a speech and memorized it, something to the tune of, "Mary Elizabeth Baker, I love you and I want to marry you. I'm sorry I never asked for your hand formally, and if you like, I will get on my knees in this street and beg for it. I'm not rich but I have enough money saved to get a small flat and make you mostly comfortable. I'll give you as many children as you like, and I promise you will always be a proper lady who need not work. I know it is not a lot to offer a lady such as yourself, and if you want to marry the other man, I will understand and leave. But I will never able to sleep again if I didn't at least ask you to reconsider...."

George had written down his speech, and held the paper out in front of him to begin his address. But seeing Mary so stunning in white, he could not make his mouth work. So instead, he remained silent only offering her, his eyes open to his soul and his heart, out on his sleeve.

Silence was always golden where they were concerned. George didn't even have to say her name. She fled the window and raced to her bed to gather her own suitcase, already packed for a honeymoon in Paris. Returning to the window, she saw a defeated George slowly walking away down the street. Knowing she couldn't shout to get his attention, she did the only thing she could think of, she threw down her suitcase, letting it splat out onto the street below. Just as she had hoped, it gained George's attention and he came running in time to see her, without reserve and quite unladylike, swing her legs over the ledge and climb down the rose trellis to her darling love, sans her wedding gown. It took seven bridesmaids, her mother and Aunt Millicent from well before sunrise to only a moment before George arrived to get her completed dressed in the glorious gown. It took Mary only a second to rip it off in her haste. She discarded it a crumpled ruin on her bedroom floor. The only things Mary wore as she landed in George's embrace right outside her parent's house were her slip and undergarments, stockings and shoes.

George hailed a carriage, put the suitcases in after Mary and jumped in. "Where to sir and...Miss?" the driver asked, dumbfounded, seeing a young lady so scantily dressed in the middle of the morning. "Anywhere but here," George replied, then turned to the kiss that sealed them together forever.

Aunt Millicent returned to Mary's room accompanied by the young lady she herself had deemed fit to be maid of honor, along with all the other bridesmaids, to complete the last minute alterations to Mary's wedding dress and fit her with crown and veil. She found the room empty and Mary's suitcase missing, which made her raise her hand to her head, "Oh dearest Lord in heaven and all the angels and all the saints -- someone search the entire house from top to bottom and lock all the doors!" The gown for which she had paid a fortune was now nothing more than ripped, mangled and utterly unfixable by even the best tailors in London. Aunt Millicent collapsed onto the bed.

"She won't get far in her bloomers, Millicent," Mr. Baker sneered, after he raced into his daughter's room to see what all the shouting was about. What sent Aunt Millicent into unconsciousness and her brother down the stairs to the front door in one swift movement was the open window and the discovery of a torn piece of Mary's slip caught on the top of the rose trellis. Mrs. Baker screamed in horror, Mr. Baker cursed under his breath while yelling for a constable and, just before she fainted, Aunt Millicent howled, "What will the neighbors think!"

George and Mary directed the carriage to Penny's humble home in London. "We can stay there today and think of someplace else to go tomorrow George. Penny is my best friend, she will understand our dilemma." Mary suggested, and George agreed, having no good plan for what would happen if Mary broke her engagement and actually wanted to escape.

Penny was just as shocked as the cab driver by Mary in her undergarments, covered only by George's coat, when they arrived. She helped Mary pick something normal to wear out of the fancy outfits and extravagant ensembles her Aunt Millicent chose for Mary's honeymoon attire. Once Mary was dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, they spent the morning and afternoon hidden away in the kitchen. "If the constables come calling for you, Mary, we will all acted shocked and appalled and worry after you, while you and George hide in the closet."

Penny and her husband lightened the mood by telling jokes and keeping the awkward conversation alive and thriving, as Mary and George both held their eyes to the clock, not feeling truly comfortable and at ease until over an hour past the time Mary should have been standing at the altar, and not a runaway hiding out.

Soon, the sun began to set and Mary and George joined the newlyweds -- expecting their first child in winter -- at their dinner table. They had a fine meal with all of the trimmings, a last supper, so to speak, for Mary and George, who held hands as they ate.

While George and Penny's husband retired to the parlor for an after dinner drink, Penny and Mary cleaned the supper dishes, Mary still anxiously watching the clock and the front door. "I don't think they are coming for you, Mary. They would have been here by now. For tonight, at least, you are safe. I think you and George should spend the night. I just wonder whatever will happen tomorrow? What is to happen when you go home?" Penny asked concerned.

Mary did not answer only shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe tomorrow will never come, or better yet maybe George and I won't go home. Maybe we will run away to a better place and get married there and live happily ever after." Mary delighted drying dish after dish as Penny washed.

"That's baby talk, Mary, you are not a child anymore, you know. You have to go home, you will want your parents' blessing to marry George, it's just not right any other way. And think of George, for in the eyes of the law he's now a criminal. You're not married and because of him stealing you away, your father could lie and say he raped you, or worse."

Mary held her tongue, Penny was right. But there was no way, especially now, that her parents would allow a marriage to George. Penny, seeing the defeat on Mary's face, offered, "God helps those who help themselves. You have tonight with him. Enjoy it as if it was your last night on earth. Tomorrow, go home to your parents, explain how you feel. If they make you marry someone you do not love, then, at the very least, you had tonight."

Mary held a serious expression, too serious, as far as Penny was concerned, she leaned into Mary's ear and doing her very best Aunt Millicent impression she joked, "This evening, Mary Elizabeth, you will allow George to consummate you," which made Mary giggle just as hard as Penny.

And so she took Penny's advice. Penny and her husband slept in the parlor on the floor and gave George and Mary their bedroom. Mary dressed in the nightgown her mother gave her especially for her wedding night as George dressed in his pajamas. They both got into bed at the same time and blew out the lamp, but not before George complimented her. "You look splendid in silk Mary, your nightgown is very flattering." Truth be told, he was already excited to the point of ecstasy just looking at her, and so he jumped into bed first and rolled on his side, facing away from her to hide his condition. They lay under the covers without moving, Mary on her back, George on his side.

"Shall we consummate now George?" Mary asked gleefully.

George stuttered, choking on his tongue, "Consummate Mary? Have you done that before with others?"

George slowly turned his head to see her sitting up in bed smiling. He on the other hand had a shocked expression on his face in the moonlight.

"No George. To be completely honest, I'm not even sure what the word means." She chuckled at her silliness, completely innocent of such grown up things. Her face suddenly turned dismal as she took notice that she was the only one who found humor in her naiveté

George turned on his back and gave her his full attention, reaffixing the spectacles he removed when he laid down. In a rather confused but more annoyed voice he asked, "What do you think it means Mary?"

Mary gazed upon George's face. She slowly pulled the blanket up over her head, beyond embarrassed and completely humiliated to have said something foolish and ruin their one and only night together. She mumbled, "Sleep?"

George knew what the word meant, and he was still taken aback that a lady such as herself would dare say it aloud, let alone ask him if he wanted to. In his mind, he heard his mother's voice cackling, "Only whores ask a man for his favor." The combination of Mrs. Darling's voice and Mary's unbelievable ingenuousness created a look of disgust on George's face which caused him to inadvertently sneer, "That is not what that word means, Mary, and a young lady of good breeding who expects marriage from a gentleman should never ask him or any man for his favor, not ever."

Mary pulled the blanket from her face and peeked at George who was now angrily glaring at her, only now he had relit the lamp on the bedside table and was sitting with his arms crossed. Mary slowly hid her face and asked, "What does favor mean, George?"

He sighed loudly and shook his head, rising from the bed with his hands on his hips, "Mary Elizabeth, either you are a woman of loose virtue, only playing dumb, or you really are a very foolish child who is playing a unkind game with my heart. Which one is it?"

Mary was NOT a woman of "loose virtue" -- she knew what that meant. Nor was she engaging George in some foolish children's game. Because of his harsh words, she suddenly became quite uneasy, and decided it was time to run away again. This time, Mary decided to runaway from him.

She wrapped herself from head to toe in the blanket with her face still covered and leapt up from the bed, banging into the door in her blinded state. George jumped up from the bed as well and gave chase, but Mary was quick, even with her head and body wrapped in a blanket. She made it all the way into the parlor before tripping over Penny and her husband who were still awake arguing over finances.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Mary, where are you going?" Penny exclaimed, helping her best friend up.

"Sleepwalking, Mary?" Penny's husband joked, glancing over her silky sheath that barely left anything to the imagination.

Penny smacked her husband in the head and walked Mary into the kitchen, asking George for a few moments alone with Mary. "What happened?" Penny asked, "You can't be that frightened of making love, are you?" she continued in a lower whisper.

"He said I was either a woman of loose virtue or a child for not knowing what consummate and favor means! What do they mean?" Mary responded as the first tears since the morning fled her eyes.

"Consummate means making love, like I told you, his parts and your parts. Favor means pretty much the same thing."

Mary shook her head with her eyes closed, "I'm not to do that until I am married."

Penny nodded her head biting her lip, "I know, Mary, you are such a good girl, and it was just a suggestion and a bad one at that. I forget George is already a man, being seven years older than you and all. I'm sorry."

Penny brought Mary back to her bedroom and took George aside for a word. "I was the one who told her to flirt, so don't think badly of her, George, she is still just a child in some senses, and she loves you and just wanted to please you."

George returned to the room, finding Mary already in bed with the blankets again pulled up over her head. He could hear her weeping, even though it was muffled. "I'm sorry to have insulted you Mary, I don't think ill of you. I was just a little shocked to hear you offer yourself so freely to me. I understand now." He rubbed her back and asked for a kiss adding, "I cannot kiss you goodnight with a blanket between your lips and mine."

Mary lowered the blankets and gave him a kiss, not just any kiss, the kiss she kept only for him in the corner of her mouth. "That was very nice Mary, can I kiss you again?" George asked politely, and she did, willingly giving her lips to him without question.

They both took their place in bed under the blanket, both on their backs and once again George blew out the lamp. With the only the moon to light the room, George looked to Mary and she to him. They both rolled over on their sides to face each other and held hands. George moved closer to Mary and Mary moved closer to George and soon they met again in a kiss. They moved back to their original positions on their backs and began again, first by looking to the other, then by moving closer ending with a kiss. Each time, they kissed longer and deeper, and soon their lips parted and their tongues moved around the other's exploring. George's hand moved to cup her breast, curious of what they felt like, but he thought better of it, and removed his hand down to his side to alleviate the temptation.

After an hour of staying interlocked by mouth, George, consumed with passion, moved his hand up and onto her breast, and she allowed the contact. He only touched her over the blanket, and then he eased the blanket down and cupped her with just the sheath of silk keeping him from her skin. He moved his hand once again; this time to unlace the thin strap of fabric that tied on her shoulder, and gingerly laid his palm over her exposed flesh.

George felt her soft breast and hard nipple, becoming very aroused, and very embarrassed to think she would find what stood erect beneath the covers. Thus he pulled away from her ever so slightly. Mary also became aroused and lubricated by his gentle movements across her breast and lips, and was scared the drippings of her womanhood would soak the sheets. Still neither one wanted to stop kissing or the touching that made them both tingle, so they continued on.

Completely clothed in his pajamas, George moved for a better position to continue the foreplay, moving his upper body over her, very conscious of his throbbing manhood restrained in his pajama bottoms. George had now unlaced both of the straps holding Mary's nightgown up, and her breasts were showing which made her somewhat uncomfortable that she was the only one uncovered. "Would you take off your pajama shirt, George?" Mary asked him.

"I'm not sure if I should, I think in order to do that, or go any further then we already have we should be married," he responded, helping her fix her gown back on.

Mary and George lay back down in bed under the blankets on their backs and gazed adoringly to one another holding hands. "I wish we could get married right now, here, in this very bed," Mary giggled, looking past George out the window to the star-filled sky.

George looked to her with a serious face; he fixed his spectacles straight on his nose and kissed Mary's hand to gain her attention. With her looking at him, he began, "I, George, take you, Mary, to be my wife..."

In the bed, in the moonlight, with God looking down, George and Mary recited their wedding vows to each other. "God is listening, and in His eyes, with our love we are already married," Mary said when they had finished their sentiments of husband and wife. They kissed once more to seal the deal, and then George stood up and away from the bed, clutching his pillow to his waist to hide his condition. "We are to take off our clothes." George went first while Mary hid her eyes. Then Mary disrobed, while George looked the other way. Once naked and back under the safety of the blankets, they reached for each other.

Soon George was between her legs above her, he and Mary engaged in a kiss. He was concerned he would not be able to find the point of entry inside of her, but as wet as she was, it was almost like her womanhood pulled him in. He gently pressed into her, and she accepted his access gladly, shifting underneath him to make it easier.

It was a piercing pain, a strange sensation, like nothing she had ever felt before. The pain ended and then began again as he moved deeper into her. Indescribable at the moment (if Mary had to) the sensation was of something rock hard yet not jagged nor sharp, attempting to enter a space too small to fit. Another pain, this time all encompassing was felt, causing her to cry out into his mouth. George quickly withdrew and apologized for causing her harm.

The roadblock to heaven, Mary's virginity, would need to be broken through for George to progress further on his adventure. They kissed for quite awhile moving about on the bed before George gathered enough courage to place Mary back underneath him in the position where he was sure they would connect. And they did, causing Mary to moan in agony as he forced himself back to the place of impasse deep within her. Mary opened her eyes to see George with his head on her shoulder wanting desperately to move forward, but in torment over her ache. Even though it hurt considerably more than she imagined she told him, "Just keep going George, I'll be alright," and so he went.

George was so kind and tender with Mary, "Are you sure? I don't want to ever damage you." She answered him with her eyes and kissed his lips. "Mary, you must promise to forgive me for any hurt this causes you."

Mary nodded, "I promise George."

With one quick thrust, as if pulling off a bandage, George shoved his entire length into his wife, taking her virginity. Mary sucked in a limitless amount of breath as she felt George fill her whole, and groaned softly, exhaling as he pulled out to the head of his member and filled her once more. He continued on in a slow rhythm much unlike what his father had suggested. He felt more pleasure moving unhurried, this being his first time too, he wanted to enjoy the unfamiliar sensations of their interactions.

Once her virginity was banished and the pain subsided, all Mary felt was George plunging in and out, in and out, in and out. She listened to his breathing, exhaling and inhaling, exhaling and inhaling, on her neck at the same pace as his thrusting. The more he moved within her, the quicker both his thrusting and panting became.

So it was, at least, that for the first time, Mary performed her "wifely duty," and although it was not an utterly unpleasant experience, poor Mary did not understand why anyone would think a woman could ever receive pleasure from it. George seemed to be having a grand old time, once or twice he moved too hard into her and she gasped, but he took no notice of her discomfort as he walked in heaven.

It did not last very long, which was just as surprising to Mary as the pain of his entry. She felt the end was near when instead of his steady in and out, the movement changed to an erratic jerking forward into her. He held his breath and the released it heavily hot on her shoulder with one final grunt. George fell on top of her and took rest there, sweaty and gulping for air. She, on the other hand, was calm, well winded with an unusual soreness that throbbed from her womanhood. He suddenly rolled off of her and immediately dressed in his pajamas, advising her to do the same.

Mary excused herself to the bathroom with her night robe fastened shut to check the mirror for any noticeable difference in her appearance. The only thing different was the small amount of blood that was dried to her leg, which she made a mental note to ask Penny about in the morning. By the time she returned to ask George what adventures and treasures were found on the other side of the door she had hidden within her, her new husband was already asleep. Mary soon drifted into her slumber; the worry of her parents catching her was gone as well as the tenderness she felt between her legs that had abated.

In the morning, when she awoke, George was already bare under the blankets, waiting. He wasted no time asking her politely to undress, wanting to "unlock" her once again. She obliged, being his wife and feeling it her duty, and soon they began their routine of kissing and touching. She felt cheated their first night, as if there was something else that was to happen that didn't. If she loved him so much why was it not wonderful? And if that was what it was to be like with George, whom she felt so much for, then what would it be like with a man she hated?

George must have seen the puzzlement on her face, for he stopped just as he was about to enter her. Mary would never have to worry after that night, for in the morning sun, everything was about to become different.

"I want you to enjoy this just as much as I do," he told her. "I want you to be eager about it, I don't think something this marvelous should ever be thought of as a chore for someone like you. I love you, and I love to feel you around me when we make love, and I really want you to feel the same way about me," he told her, looking down at her below him. "You love me in that way don't you? You want me to make love to you?" he asked her.

She shrugged her shoulders beneath him and mumbled, "I'll never refuse you if you want to..."

George pulled his head up just a little surprised; as that was not the response he expected or wanted. "I know it hurt you at first, but after that, did it not feel good?"

She begrudgingly told him nothing felt good about him slipping in and out of her like she was not there.

He went over the scenario in his mind. "Nothing? What about the kissing, before I started on you?" he queried, shaking his head, angry with himself for using that impolite terminology for their act. He sat up, as did Mary.

"Oh yes George, I loved the kissing. I could kiss you like that forever. But the other part, not that I didn't enjoy the fact that it made you feel good, I just won't lie to you and tell you I am eager for you. But, as I said, I will never ever refuse you. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, I don't mean to be selfish. My mother told me it was more important for you to like it than me, and you do, so maybe this is the right way it should be. Am I supposed to pretend I enjoy it? If I am George, I will pretend for you..."

George gave it more thought and then put his best foot forward with her. "No Mary, please don't pretend. I truly want you to feel good. I truly want you to want me. Please promise me you will never act as if you are having fun when you are not. Be honest with me." He held her hands in his own as he spoke from his heart. Once again, Mary nodded and sincerely replied, "I promise George."

George leaned his head into hers and in all seriousness began, "I'm going to kiss you again Mary, and I want you to tell me how it feels, and if what I'm doing feels bad or unpleasant stop me. But if it feels good, you have to tell me that too."

Mary assented, and so George kissed. After she rested back on the bed, he kissed her face and down her neck. He kissed her breasts and around her nipples. It sent chills up her spine and she declared that, thus far, he was doing a fine job. He moved down her stomach to her navel and progressed further to her womanhood. There she stopped him out of fear. "You are my wife, and as far as I am concerned, and there is not one part of your body that I don't think is as beautiful as your face." Remembering the words of her best friend, "What you do in the privacy of your marriage is your business and no one else's..." that echoed through her mind, she nodded, allowing him to proceed.

He moved his lips to a sensitive part of her body that she did not even know existed. "Yes, right there, right there! I think, oh yes that's it! Please don't stop George!" Instead of his lips, he now explored with his tongue, licking and tasting her.

"Yes, yes, that's rather lovely." It was now Mary that was out of breath. She felt an odd feeling in her belly, as if something was trying to get out. The chills that ran down her spine, now gave her goose bumps as George entered her using his finger. "Please George, keep doing whatever it is you are doing there..." Not knowing what was better, his tongue on her clitoris or his finger at work, she begged him for a kiss. He complied and when he did, he moved the right way to replace his finger with his manhood.

Where his movements were slow and gentle, she urged him to move quicker and harder. He did and soon she felt the same pleasure he did. She had lain still the night before, but now as if beyond her own control, moved and shifted with his strokes. And just as he erratically jerked forward into her, so did she and both at the same time they reached completion and fell against one another out of breath and sweaty.

Involved in their own passion and pleasure, they could not hear Penny and her husband sitting at the kitchen table laughing like school children. It was not the bed hitting the wall that made them break into hysterics, nor was it the heavy breathing and moaning going on within the room. It was the laughter of two people in love who witnessed two others just the same experiencing love being made as is should be.

When they were finished with their passions, they did not hurriedly get dressed, as the elder Mr. Darling had suggested. Instead, they remained naked and intertwined well into the afternoon. "I have all the money from my savings, and we can run away to wherever you want to go, Mary. Where do you want to go?" They spooned against one another in the bed, with Mary's back facing George.

He ran his fingers through her long hair as he asked his question, and before she gave her response, she clutched tightly to his hand that held her around the waist. "I want to go home."

George, feeling proud of his victorious defeat of Mr. and Mrs. Baker as well as his own parents and Aunt Millicent, queried further, "And where would you like to make our home?"

Now Mary turned to him, "I want to go home to my parents."

George lowered his head and rolled over on his back. He wasted no time in sitting up and beginning to dress. "Fine, I'll take you home. My brother told me this was just a baby game for you. Well, I hope you had a jolly good time Mary. Now you can go and get married to the other man with my broken heart as your trophy." His tone was discourteous, dare I say annoyed with his wife, and he further showed his irritation by not waiting for her to put her clothes on completely before fleeing the room and storming out of the house.

"What's wrong with George? He left without even saying goodbye or offering his thanks for putting you two up," Penny asked as Mary who cried while tying her bootlaces.

"I'm sorry, Penny, thank you for letting us stay in your home. I think George is mad at me because I want to go home to my parents. He told me I was playing a game with him, but I'm not."

Mary dried her tears and fixed her hair, chasing after George who was hailing a carriage.

His expression was hostile, but before he could open his mouth, she spoke, "I want to go home to my parents for no other reason than that they deserve to know how I truly feel about you. I don't want us to have to hide away in order to be together. I want them accept us and accept our choice to be man and wife. Believe me, George, there is no other place in the entire world I would rather be than with you. Every moment we are not together will feel like an eternity for me. Please let me do right by you, George, I don't want to shame you or your family's name. I'm sure there are plenty of rumors and evil gossip being spread about me right now. I don't want your name added to the list by any means. It was my choice to run away. Let me tell them that, please." Mary clutched his face with her hands and pulled him face to face with her, "George, I would rather cut my heart out of my chest then offend yours, I swear to you that this is no game. Remember our vows, till death parts us..."


	5. Chapter 5 Malice in the Palace

My Darling Love

Chapter 5 – Malice in the Palace

"_A young lady is a female child who has just done something dreadful."_

_-Judith Martin_

It was in no way the grandest house in all of London, but Mr. Baker did consider his home his castle. Not just any castle, but a palace, full of all his treasures that he valued above everything else in the world. One of his treasures was his only daughter, Mary Elizabeth. Mary's mother was a delicate creature, and almost died giving birth to her. Mary was a horrible breech, intent on coming out bottom first. It took Mrs. Baker almost a year to recover, and even though Mary was now eighteen, Mrs. Baker had still not returned to the woman she once was.

With her only daughter missing on her wedding day, Mrs. Baker did the only thing she could: she took to a chair by her daughter's bedroom window, overcome by misery. Mary's father was enraged, and sat at his desk, looking at the bills for a wedding that never was. Aunt Millicent, embarrassed and humiliated, refused to receive visitors, even those offering their sympathies. Mary's fiancé, the bigger fish, demanded his ring back and Mrs. Baker returned it. Mary had left it on the windowsill before she scaled the trellis to freedom and George.

The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Baker, along with Aunt Millicent, sat at the dining room table, waiting for their prodigal and shamed daughter to return. And she did, alone. She entered the home in an outfit that was purchased as her traveling attire for her honeymoon. Instead, it was to be the first outfit she dressed in with George's seed inside of her, taking root, waiting to bloom into a baby.

Her mother hung her head for she knew what was coming, hearing her husband threaten it all morning, "When that bitch comes back, I'm going to beat her until she bleeds." Mary's father wasted no time making good on his promise, and yanked her by the arm up the stairs and into her room, with Aunt Millicent on their heels shouting. "Don't hit her Joseph, you'll spoil her face!"

Mr. Baker stopped at the doorway to Mary's room, and for the first and only time in his life, he punched a hole clear through the wall, just to prove to his only daughter how serious he was. "You will stay in this room until you ask forgiveness for your sins. You will tell us where you went and whom you were with. I want you to know, Mary Elizabeth, that a wicked rumor has already been spread about you. That rumor claims you took flight with George Darling. If I learn that is correct, I will cut from him the part of his body that makes him a man!"

Mr. Baker pushed Mary into her room, not allowing her even a moment to explain anything of what she was feeling, and slammed the door, shutting her inside.

"If I had hit her, I would have killed her," Mr. Baker said to Aunt Millicent.

Millicent had been fuming that her brother had most likely bruised Mary's arm. "I do not want words to get around that you are abusive to your only daughter, Joseph. You know, Mary Elizabeth will not marry well if her suitor has to worry over your temper."

Mr. Baker eagerly assured his sister that her concern was unwarranted. "Suitors?" he retorted. "What man will want her now? I could tell by the look on her face when she walked in the door that she's been spoiled, and I'll bet George Darling was the man who not only thieved her from the bedroom but had a go at her as well! And I promise you she will die a spinster before I let her run away back to that scoundrel again! I would call the constables, but I would much rather deal with him myself..."

George went home to a different reception. No one noticed he was not home and no one inquired after his whereabouts. Only his father gave voice to his absence in the night when he walked in the house. Mr. Darling patted him on the back and whispered, "Good for you, George, I hope you had the prettiest little lady lay down for you last night. That's my boy, having your own party, celebrating that Mary Baker's wedding. But George, you only pay them to lay down, don't be paying extra to keep warm in a bed."

George had his tea quietly with his family and retired to his room for the rest of the day. His mother stopped in at nightfall and brought him up a tray of food for supper. She too had her own quietly spoken comment to her youngest son, "Now that you know what being a man is like, no need for you to make it a habit. But if you want to waste your hard-earned money frequenting prostitutes, do it so I don't have to know you're doing it. And take your clothes to the laundry. I am not washing some whore's perfume from your pajamas."

Mary had advised him against bringing her home to confront her parents. "I'll come to you, whatever you do, don't come over until I send word that it's alright. I love you. Remember, in the eyes of God, we are married, and you are my husband," she'd said before kissing his lips and hugging him tightly one more time.

George felt ill at ease, letting her take the brunt of his valiant effort, knowing her father's alleged nasty temper. "Perhaps they would be quicker to accept me if I did the noble thing and just confessed I was at your window, and that you would never have left, had it not been for me," George sighed, distressed that she seemed as concerned as he did.

"No, they don't know you were there, and I want it that way. Believe me, my love, you saved me yesterday. God forgive me, but the thoughts of escape that flooded my own mind..." She fell silent, not wanting to admit suicide was her escape. Instead, she offered him one more kiss before leaving him, saying, "Remember George, please do not come by unless I send for you." Being newly married, at least in God's eyes, he listened to his wife and heeded her advice.

When George had not heard from her in a week, he changed his daily schedule. Now he allotted extra time to travel to and from work, so he could pass by her house. Every day, he saw no sign of her, only the shades of her window closed and drawn.

Her father paid a handyman to put bars on her window, denying her that means of escape. Mary never apologized and never told them where she went or whom she was with, although they had their suspicions. For weeks on end, she lay in her bed in total darkness, and prayed.

Her parents, with the help of Aunt Millicent, pieced together the events of her wedding day. When they were sure of every detail, they confronted her as a hostile team to break her. "We know you were with George Darling, Mary Elizabeth. His own mother confirmed that he was not in their house that morning, and did not return home that night. He arrived late the next afternoon at approximately the same time you did. We also know you spent the day and the entire night with Penny and her husband. We assume George Darling was there with the sorry lot of you. Now Penny only has one bedroom, one parlor, a kitchen and a bathroom. So we know you either slept in her bed or on her parlor floor. Our only question, is where did George Darling sleep?" They could tell by the blank look on her face, they had concocted the truth.

"Do you want to know where he slept or do you want to know whether the asking price of my hand should be lowered?" Mary looked up to her father who glared down with his hands on his hips.

"His mother assured me he was with a whore that night, Mary Elizabeth, a filthy whore who wore cheap perfume. So where George Darling slept will tell me exactly how much you're still worth to your fiancé and to your mother and I as well."

"Wherever George slept, I slept with him, although we did not do much sleeping." Mary replied.

Her father raised his hand and slapped her face, rattling her jaw, "He spoiled you? I'll kill him. You hear me, Mary Elizabeth? I'LL KILL HIM?" Mary held her head high, even after being slapped hard by her father, the red welt now on her cheek.

"Why you ungrateful little tramp!" Aunt Millicent took care of Mary's other cheek.

A blow from her father she could accept, but not one from her Aunt Millicent. Her interrogation had her sitting on her bed with the group of them standing before her. As the redness became apparent on her other cheek, Mary stood and turned to Millicent, "Who are you to call me a tramp? I laid down with George because I love him, not because I wanted his money," she scoffed.

Another hand came down on Mary. This time, it was her mother, and Mrs. Baker was speechless after the assault simply because, in her anger, she punched Mary instead of lightly slapping her to get a point across. Shocked by her own harsh attack, she knelt beside her only daughter who had blood dripping from a split lip and begged her daughter's forgiveness.

"You either get out of my bedroom and leave me alone, or throw me out on the street and I'll fend for myself," Mary retorted as she yanked her arm away from her mother.

"Throw you out on the street?" her father bellowed. "I'll bet a whore like you would like that. I'd bet all the money in the bank you'd go running back to George Darling. No, you'll stay here in this room, as will your new reputation. This door will remained locked and no one will be allowed in or out until the scandal of your deplorable and contemptible behavior blows over," Mr. Baker commanded.

It was finished; no one spoke to her and no visited. Her food was left on a tray in the morning, all she was to have for the entire day, outside of her door. The maid would knock but not enter at night to collect her dishes.

Mary Elizabeth Baker, safely inside the sanctuary of her bedroom, knew something that no one else in world had ever imagined possible, not even George. After being locked away for only three weeks, she became aware of the absence of her August monthly. Not mindful of why it would not come when it was supposed to, she thought back to her mother's talk with her the night she became engaged. "My own adventure," she spoke to herself. Only a day late, she sat at her vanity and checked her reflection for a noticeable change. She undressed and stood bare in front of the full length mirror attached to her wardrobe door and rubbed her hand over her belly looking for some sign of life inside of her. She found none and felt disappointed. She knew it took Penny awhile to realize she was with child, and so with nothing else to do but wait, Mary did.

By September, over seven weeks late for August, she again looked and saw nothing. Well, almost nothing, for her breasts were quite swollen and painful to the touch. She wished for her monthly, and felt as if her menstruation was abound her any day, for she also had mild cramping that made her take to bed. She noticed a miniscule amount of browned blood on her underwear that only lasted a day or so before stopping. To be on the safe side, hoping to keep whatever it was that might be baby secured inside the sanctity of her womb she spent a week with her legs elevated above her head while lying on her bed, saying a prayer to the patron saint of expectant mothers. The tenderness of her breasts subsided and, oddly enough, as September came to an end, she felt like her old self again, with one exception, now she was tremendously tired from doing nothing all day but sitting by the barred window.

By October, with three months of confinement behind her, she saw for the first time the evidence she needed to prove her theory correct. Her favorite skirt, form fitting, would not close at the side. Her belly in the middle, normally flat as a board, suddenly became misshapen overnight, with a tiny bump only visible when she was naked. As long as she had been locked away, she had been nauseated, and vomited frequently when she ate, but thought it was because the food she was served perhaps spoiled from sitting out all day. Now, even the thought of food made her sick. She knew her parents would be eating a hot meal downstairs, for the aroma that drifted up the stairs sent her running for her chamber pot to vomit.

The cramping had stopped and now she swore there was a peculiar fluttering at night when she held a pillow to her stomach. She stayed up well into the night, each night conversing with George's baby by pushing down on her belly and waiting for whatever it was, boy or girl that grew inside of her to respond. Soon, as time went on, it did. Counting the months from the time George had claimed her virginity Mary put the baby's arrival date in April. Instead of praying for freedom and understanding from her parents, Mary now prayed for a beautiful baby girl that looked just like her husband.

As much as she suffered in her room, her mother suffered more downstairs in the parlor alone. Without Mary's company in idle conversation, or her talent at playing the piano, Mrs. Baker sank deeper and deeper into depression. Remembering her clenched fist she used to strike her only child, who, in her own mind, was not an eighteen-year-old young adult, but still a tiny baby the midwife had just handed her made her pains worsen tenfold. She paced the foyer endlessly, wringing her hands until they bled speaking an undying repetition of, "How could I hurt my little baby, my tiny little baby in a pink blanket...God forgive me..."

Mr. Baker tried his best to make her happy, "We shall dine out tonight Elizabeth, or maybe go to the theater," but to no avail.

His suggestions did nothing more than make his wife stop her pacing back and forth and run to the bottom of the stairs."Oh no Joseph, I can't leave this spot right here! Any moment now our Mary Elizabeth may call for me to come and release her from her room. It would be horrible if I am not there when she calls, I am her mother, and a child always longs for their mother."

Mary did not long for her mother, for with that fist, her mother had broken the only tie left that held her to her daughter. "I will never hit my baby, God, I will fight for my daughter and stand behind her always, no matter what she does. I will forgive her, and then I will guide her home."

Mr. Baker saw his wife diminish before his eyes, and finally, when he could stand the punishment to his wife no longer, he liberated Mary into the sunlight of a new autumn day – with many unarguable conditions.

"You will accept your mother's apology for striking you. You will go to church and at the very least confess your sins to God. You will never see George Darling again. You will never speak TO or OF George Darling again. That means no letters to him Mary Elizabeth and don't try to trick us girl. The postman already knows no correspondence sent from this home is to be delivered to the Darling's. If you see him on the street, you will act as if he is not there and ignore him. Believe me, he will do the exact same thing to you! You will marry the man I tell you to, and he will never know you took to bed with another before him. And now, just to be certain you understand the rules I have just told you, you will no longer be able to leave this house without a proper chaperone until you have a wedding ring on your finger and are another man's headache. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, GIRL?"

Mary's parents thought she would be sad and melancholy, especially after Mr. Baker's harsh words he delivered in a threatening tone. Mary did not know her parents had already rescheduled her wedding for December. Nor was she aware that George Darling had been in her home since she was imprisoned in her bedroom. Escorted by his mother on Millicent's invitation, he came no further in the door than the foyer. And there, Mr. Baker threatened George's life repeating to Mrs. Josephine Darling, Mary's confession. He was never to speak to Mary again, and he was never to even walk on the street where they lived. "Have no fear over your shamed daughter Mr. Baker, soon Fred and myself will be sending our son away and he will no longer be a bother to you and your lovely wife." Mrs. Darling informed, although her tone was not kind and concerned, rather sarcastic and mocking.

Mary listened to her father as he barged in her bedroom without knocking and accepted his words with a blank gaze, rolling her eyes when he looked away. She went outside into the autumn air and stretched her arms; full of her own life and George's life that she carried within. Her father still would not speak to her. At supper, her Aunt Millicent was the one break the news of her impending nuptials. Mary gave a wickedly sinister smile to her aunt with a grin from ear to ear dying to release her secret to everyone. But, still the proper lady her parents raised, she knew to tell no one until she told George, her husband.

With no other way to contact him, she wrote him a letter and sent it with postman as he delivered the daily mail to her home. Wise that she was now, always being watched, she addressed the letter to her friend Penny, giving the excuse that she wanted her at the wedding. "Since you addressed all the invitations and there are none left, I just will jot her a little note."

A little note indeed, with specific instructions on how to break the news to George. So there, in the Bank, during his lunch break, George learned he was to be a father from Penny, quite expectant herself. Not sure how to handle such a scandalous situation, he left early and delivered the blow that would send his father on a rampage and his mother from her chair to the floor. "Mother and Father, as you are well aware from Mr. and Mrs. Baker, I spent the night with Mary, ruining her virtue. What you are not aware of is that I...I..." a hard sentiment to get off his tongue, he finally expelled the words from his mouth shamefully like it was for a unwed gentleman who should know better, "I put Mr. and Mrs. Baker's daughter in the wrong way, and now she is to have my baby."

The Darlings raced the Bakers, and in their formal parlor, Mr. Darling returned the favor sending Mr. Baker into cardiac arrest. "It seems, Joseph and Elizabeth, that our children think so highly of us that they are to make us grandparents in the spring!" Mr. Darling declared, handing Mr. Baker a cigar of congratulations, as Mary's father howled in agony and Mary nodded, confirming the validity of his statement while destroying yet another wedding that cost a fortune. Three grown ladies, Mrs. Baker, Mrs. Darling and Aunt Millicent, cried like babies wanting a bottle and their diapers changed. The only two people in the room not waving their hands and screaming at the top of their lungs were Mary and George who sat holding hands watching the display before them.

George leaned toward Mary and whispered, "I'm sorry, Mary, to have done something this foul to you. I know you said you were not angry, but you have every right to be. By my thoughtless actions, I have left you an unwed mother..."

Mary wiped a tear that ran down his cheek, "George are you leaving me?"

He shook his head, "Never, not as long as you will have me."

Mary watched his face, filled with worry, doing her best to soothe him on the sofa with the chaos going on around them, she said, "God blessed us with this baby because we are husband and wife in His eyes, and nothing God does can be called foul. I'm honored that you love me and have entrusted me with your child."

George's face brightened, and he replied, "There is no other woman ever that I would want to be a mother to my children." They both smiled at one another, wanting nothing more than to kiss. Feeling it best to hold their affections for a better time than the present, they only clutched each other's hands even more tightly.

"It seems your son is a filthy disgusting pervert that raped my daughter and stole her virtue!" The battle of wills between two enraged fathers began.

"Maybe it was that your daughter is a whore who will spread her legs for any man, not just my son! I heard from several of my friends you've referred to her yourself as a whore"

"Oh really, who did you hear that from, the drunks at the pub, or your bookies in the back alley? The way I see it, if your son had never defiled my innocent baby girl with his rancid and dishonorable rutting, maybe she would not be in this predicament."

It continued. "If your daughter took more care of whom she let violate the hole between her legs we would not be standing here. And if you call me a drunk or a gambler I see you are not standing at all!"

"My daughter will never be allowed to marry that beast you call your son."

It went on as such well into the night. "Good, I would never let my son marry a loose woman such as your daughter who hated her parents so much she felt it necessary to run away from home! At least my son has never run away! The part I find most amusing was when George came home that afternoon. I patted him on the back for finally achieving his manhood with a prostitute, and he didn't deny it to me, he smiled! The only unfortunate thing is that he was obviously a daft idiot, for what do I find here, that very whore in a bad way by his hand on your sofa!"

That is when the fist fighting broke our between Mr. Baker and Mr. Darling and as they punched and kicked the accusations continued to fly, "I'll bet the bastard child your daughter has inside her right now isn't even George's. Who knows all the other men she's been servicing. Seems her fiancé still wants to marry her, he's probably had at her too, why don't you go accusing him.'"

"You only confused a moment ago it was by your daft idiot of a son that my precious baby is in trouble. How convenient for you to claim my daughter would lie of such a thing. And if she did take to bed with her fiancé, believe you me, I would be overjoyed! At least he's got money and wealth to hide the shame of her condition! Seems to me the smart thing for my daughter to do would be to call a spade a spade. But instead she cries after your son, so it's obvious he's the only one who's had the pleasure. More likely your son has put many innocent young girls in trouble and she is just another on the long list of mothers who have born him fatherless children, and that's why you are so ashamed he has finally been caught with his hand in the cookie jar!"

As Mr. Baker and Mr. Darling went at each other's throats and rolled around on the floor of the formal parlor, Mrs. Baker and Mrs. Darling continued to wail and beat their bosoms. Aunt Millicent was out the door once she got hold of herself, and headed to the bigger fish's house to return the ring yet again.

At midnight, with bloody noses and bruised faces, the two men fighting a losing battle took comfort in a bottle of scotch. The women crying over an illegitimate baby made in lust by their children finally fainted. Mary and George were left alone, and they sat, he with his hand on her belly and she staring into his perfect blue eyes, comfortable in their silence, as always. Every time his father said an unkind and untrue word about Mary, George readied himself to stand and defend her, but Mary held him back and shook her head, "No, let them have their say, they are not angry at us, they are angry at themselves." As Mr. Baker called George names and accused him of being a perverted breeder of bastards, Mary lost her temper and also prepared to fight to the death for her husband's honor. George held her hand tighter reassuring, "I have broad shoulders and false words will never hurt me, just take your rest, you are with my child."

Aunt Millicent returned shortly after everyone had worn themselves out, still holding the ring of engagement to the bigger fish. "He still wants to marry our Mary Elizabeth!" she declared as she entered, surprised that the Darlings were still there. "Did you hear me?" She fanned her sister-in-law who came to just in time to hear the news. "Yes, he said he will marry her on one condition. That she is sent away to your cousin's in Scotland until the child is born. And when child arrives she must leave it there in an orphanage and never speak of it or to George again."

George stood with the noise, Mary unable to stop him, and Aunt Millicent seeing him in the flesh in her brother's parlor, hissed at him to sit down and shut up.

Mary stood as well, "Don't you ever speak to him like that! We are to be married now, and there is nothing you can do to stop it this time."

"We'll see about that, now won't we missy," Aunt Millicent sneered placing the ring intended for Mary on her own finger, as if to mock her.

Mary paid her Aunt no further mind, knowing in her heart that her parents would never hear of such a thing as her still marrying the bigger fish and leaving their first grandchild at an orphanage in Scotland. Her father was too drunk that night to consider the offer and her mother still too shaken by the first batch of news to comprehend the second batch. Mr. and Mrs. Darling left, in the same condition, with George in tow, and waited until morning to give their decision.

Mary descended the stairs the next morning with thoughts of baby clothes and baby smells and baby things she would need once the little baby she wanted to name Georgeanne was born. She dressed herself in a loose fitting blouse and pinned her skirt to give the baby inside of her extra room to grow. Thus attired, her parents seeing her as she entered the dining room for breakfast knew the decision they had made when they awoke was the correct one. Mary had the smile of a mother-to-be while holding the tiniest space in her dreams for the wedding she knew would come. She had already written her first letter that morning to Penny asking her to be matron of honor at the ceremony, signing it, _Mrs. Mary Darling._ She took her place at her parents' table and prepared herself to graciously accept their apologies and give them her forgiveness for keeping her from George.

But alas, to her consternation, her parents liked Aunt Millicent's idea best, as always. She was commanded to pack her things and ready herself to be sent to her third cousin's in Scotland. "You are already showing. Before anyone else sees you, or learns of your condition you will already be away 'on holiday,' for that is what we are going to tell anyone who asks. 'Our daughter Mary Elizabeth is in Scotland looking after a relative who is ill.' "

They would not even consider her plea for the life of their grandchild, nor listen to her threat of eternal hatred she would cast upon them, or eternal damnation in the eyes of God she was certain He had already fated her parents with. "Not another word, Mary Elizabeth. When you return, we will expect your figure to be as it was, with no evidence that you have born a child. And if you tell George where you are going, or send him word, I will have him arrested on charges of indecent behavior and rape." Her father shouted from the head of his table, slamming his fists down against it.

It did not matter that the Darlings had not yet voiced their opinion, for later in the day when their message arrived, it was of the same opinion as the Bakers'. "Send your daughter away and George will not bother with her again. If she contacts our home, I will see that the nastiest rumors you can imagine will spread like wildfire throughout London of her immoral behavior and already questionable reputation." George had made the same pleas of grandchildren to his parents. His father also retorted with malice, "I don't know who is more foolish: a girl that lets a man between her legs before she has the wedding ring on her finger, or a man that still wants to put that ring there after he's had her. As far as grandchildren go, I'm too young to have anyone call me grandpa."

Mary sat in the dining room, scowling angrily as her parents told her of her fate. She remained there with the same expression when Mr. Darling arrived later in the day. She did not move from her chair, nor did George move from where he sat in his home with the same scowl as Mary's.

"A proper lady should only speak only when spoken to. A proper lady should never raise her voice. A proper lady should always do as she's told without question." Her Aunt Millicent's lessons played out repeatedly in her head.

But Mary was not a proper lady. She might be married to George in the eyes of the God, but not in the eyes of the laws of England. So therefore, when she went to bed with George without being lawfully wed, she proved herself far from anything acceptable in polite society. With that in mind, she stood up and stormed into the other room. There her parents sat, lost in their thoughts of all that went awry, of all their useless aspirations, of the lost dream of their only daughter marrying a big fish.

"I am having George Darling's baby whether you like it or not," she announced. "He has asked to marry me and do the right thing for me, for this baby inside of me, and for this family. I accepted and I will marry him. There is nothing wrong with marrying someone you love and there is no shame in the eyes of God when a child is made from that love. If God didn't want me to have this baby, He would have never blessed me with it. George was good enough only a few short months ago. If I remember correctly, it was you, Father that picked him out and brought him home. Nothing has changed except the arrival of Aunt Millicent's suitor who has more wealth. I don't love him, and he does not love me. If you ask my opinion on the matter, which you won't, a man that still wants to marry me -- knowing I love someone else and am to have his child -- and still expects me to uphold Aunt Millicent's acceptance of this proposal and give away my baby -- your grandchild -- to an orphanage, HE is the one that should be called foul and perverted! Therefore, on the last Saturday in November, George and I will wed in the church and become husband and wife, and there is nothing you or anyone else can do about it. I will not go to Scotland. I will not leave my baby in an orphanage. And I will not allow you to keep neither George nor this baby from me. I told you to throw me out on the street, you should have!"

Mary stalked from the room and out the front door without her coat and hat. She kept a brisk pace all the way to the Darlings' home, and there told them the exact same thing she had told her parents.

Both families defeated, they gave their children the same response. "If you go through with this, we will never speak to you again, and our door will never be opened to you. Do not ask for money or anything else. We don't want to see your child or your children, we don't want to know they are alive. We will go to the wedding out of respect for God and his commandments, but as soon as ceremony is over, we will forget that you ever were our child."

Mary said nothing in response to her parents except, "Good. I'll go pack my things." Her mother was still hoping for a peaceful resolution, so she intervened and told Mary she could stay at home until the wedding, but no longer. Mr. Baker wanted her out on her ear that very night, but as Aunt Millicent intoned, "People will think ill of you if you put her out on the streets before she is wed, especially in her condition." He conceded, but not without a fight. As Mary headed to her room to make her own wedding arrangements, her father called out to her, "There is nothing to pack in that bedroom, for you will take nothing from my house that is not your own, and I mean nothing! And nothing means not even the clothes on your back!"

George, who never got to tell his parents off, for Mary had done it for him, finally gave voice and finished her sentiment. "I would never bring my wife or my children into this house. You are both horrible parents who set a distasteful and offensive example of what a loving marriage should be. I would never beat my wife, and I would never drink and gamble away my money. You don't have to come to my wedding, I think it would be a sin for you to even venture in God's house. Mary and I do not want you there, anyway."

Unlike Mr. Baker, who needed to have the last word with Mary, Mr. Darling felt his fourth son had said enough for the both of them. He only offered, "You can stay home, George, even with that whore you're going to call your wife, but you're paying room and board until the wedding. It triples in price after that, unless you want to make other arrangements,. How about letting your brothers have a go at her? There's no worry that she'll be giving them any of their own bastards that your mother and I have to call grandchildren as well."

That night, as George retired to his bed, he found a note on his door from his mother, a bill for room and board -- almost as much as if he were paying for a one bedroom flat. The bill charged him all the way to the day of his wedding. He paid it in full the very next day with a note of his own. "Please don't come to the wedding, I would hate to see you both struck dead by lightning and God's rage on a day that is to be glorious and blessed."


	6. Chapter 6 Two Birds, Many Stones

Rated PG-13; Mild Sexual Content

My Darling Love

Chapter 6 – Two Birds, Many Stones

"_There is nothing nobler or more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends." _

_-__Homer_

On the last Saturday of November, four months pregnant, Mary Elizabeth Baker stood with her father at the back of the church. George had already paid the priest for the ceremony, as well as the rent for the flat where they would live after the wedding, located in the seedy part of London. It was the best he could afford. She was now unmistakably showing; the small bump only noticeable when undressed became rounder, and prevented her from wearing a proper corset. She dressed at her parents' home for the last time before walking alone to the service. She wore her mother's gown, a wedding gift from her parents. "Since I no longer have a daughter, my wife has no need to save it for her," her father informed her as he dressed for the service.

Mary had borrowed her friend Penny's plain wedding dress for the ceremony, but chose her mother's instead simply because it fit better in the waist. The old dream of wearing it on her wedding day now came true, after all.

When she arrived, her mother and father were already in the church, speaking with the priest about all the gossip that had been unleashed within the community. "I thought your fiancé," her father sneered George's title, "would have walked here with you."

Mary smiled pleasantly to her father, for nothing was going to ruin this day for her. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

George also came alone; his parents coming later, although they swore up and down on stacks of Bibles that they would not come at all. They walked proudly to the front row, ignoring the stares and whispers of the few strangers that gathered, not for the nuptials of George and Mary, but for the funeral mass that was to take place immediately following the wedding. Neither family had invited their own guests and only a small number of George's and Mary's friends were present, sitting in one huddled group two rows behind Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth.

George had dressed in his best suit, and handed Mary the bouquet of roses she was to carry down the aisle, thus seeing her before they were wed. "I wouldn't worry about bad luck, Mary. What more could happen to us now?"

Mary had bridesmaids dressed for the occasion upon Aunt Millicent's insistence that they not waste their investment on the dress. George asked his brothers to be groomsmen and they agreed, telling him that after the ceremony, they too would not speak to him again for disgracing the name of Darling.

There was no formal procession, no choir singing "Ava Maria," only the organist who begrudgingly agreed to offer his services to the priest for charity, playing one tune, the wedding march.

So down the aisle, the expectant bride-to-be was escorted, and, in the eyes of God once again, but more importantly to their parents, in the eyes of the law, they became husband and wife. Tradition stated that the father of the bride was to reply to the priest "her mother and I," when asked who gives this woman to this man. Instead, having one final word in the hopes of taking whatever of his daughter's heart he could with him he replied, "She gives herself, and if this fool wants her, he can have her."

Mary stepped down on Mr. Baker's toe with the heel of her shoe, and replied loudly to the priest, "I give myself to this man if no one else will stand for me." No one did, and so she gave herself. The priest, wanting them to be married and away from the sanctified altar just as much as they did, had the couple repeat their vows. They exchanged their rings and kissed to seal their sacred pact binding them together "'til death us do part."

Each set of parents' expressed one last parting thought to their disowned children. For Mary it was, "You can keep the dress, as it is the only thing you own." And for George it was, "If you're lucky, she'll die in childbirth, and the baby with her. Then and only then can you come home."

Mary and George smiled to one another, finally together and inseparable, too happy to be to care. With no reception, (so they thought,) George carried the new Mrs. Darling from the church and to the waiting carriage with their handful of friends throwing rice. Penny was her maid of honor and she hosted a small party for the new couple in her modest home. She even ordered a cake from Mr. Baker's establishment to celebrate the event. "I just hope your father didn't spit in it," Penny joked, as Mary and George cut into it.

He hadn't. In fact, when Penny's husband picked up the cake, the shop clerk on duty that day gave Mary and George a pretty porcelain bride and groom to decorate the cake with. There were only a dozen people, but they made merry and danced the night away to music provided by a friend of Penny's husband who played the piano. "It may not have been the grandest party your parents would have hosted, one fit for a princess and a prince, but at the very least, you now know who your family is," Penny said, as she kissed the newlyweds goodbye that night.

There was no romantic suite in a fancy hotel after their reception. There was no exotic honeymoon. All they had was each other, and the small flat in the seedy part of London for their wedding night. George did his best, and Mary thought it was fine. George was humiliated as his new wife entered their home for the first time; the place was filthy and smelt like moldy water and rotten garbage. After paying for their rings, all he could afford was a table and two chairs, one dresser and a bed.

"It's alright, George. Penny will teach me how do housework, and after I clean this place from top to bottom, it will seem like Buckingham Palace."

Penny was a true best friend, and also gave her maternity clothes to wear as well as a nightgown suitable for her first night as someone's lawful wife. They changed their clothes and retired eagerly to their bed.

Just as their first time together, it was over quickly, more so over before it began. They kissed for only a minute before George moved above her and pressed in. He entered her once and was done, jerking into her and then stopping abruptly. "George, are you alright, why are you not moving?

Embarrassed by his failure to please her, he mumbled into the pillow her head rested on, "I finished."

Mary still didn't understand the functions of the male body, let alone her own, and she replied, "Just start again, its alright." She relaxed her body under him and moved like she had the morning with him she wished this occasion to duplicate.

Feeling her moving for him, he removed himself and checked the clock. "What's wrong? Am I doing it wrong?" she asked adjusting her head to see what he was staring at.

"We have to wait till morning," he answered, "but that's only a few hours away." Even though he had released the urge, he was still hard as a rock and ready to go.

"Why do we have to wait until morning?" she asked.

"I don't know, I was told we are only to make love once a day." He had no good explanation, only his father's advice.

"I never heard of such a thing George. I don't think that it is accurate. I'm sure people make love more than once a day all the time. I know this is a horrible example, but think of prostitutes, George. I have seen them myself, the same women standing out on the corners all hours of the day and night offering themselves to gentlemen. Penny told me after she and her husband made love the first time, she had to beat him off her with a stick because he would chase after her constantly. She told me she spent more time on her back at the laundry shop where she was employed than standing running the counter while her husband was also working there."

George was a little startled by that little scandal never expecting his wife to be capable of gossiping about anything, let alone her best friend. But he was eager just the same to hear the juicy talk Mary mentioned and so he asked, "I'll assume that is why the launder released both her and her husband from their positions there? Is that not where they met? Yes, I remember her husband telling me, they met there, and were both fired by the launder's wife and were married soon after Penny began working with her mother cleaning houses."

Mary bit her lip, she was not one to ever tell secrets entrusted to her. She looked away from him, silently reprimanding herself for having a loose tongue. She gave her new husband no answer and abruptly changed the subject, using her mocking smile and amorous eyes to tempt George back to their original discussion, "I think George, we can probably make love as much as we want. I can't imagine anything very bad will happen to us."

"You think so?" George asked, with raised brow, giving it plenty deliberation before suggesting, "Let's just do other things like the last time, and then do it again when it's morning just to be on the safe side."

Mary accepted this idea, wanting to be as close to her new husband as possible. Soon enough, as George found himself between her legs licking and sucking her most intimate parts and entering her with two fingers did he realize that what his father told him was erroneous. For the simple action of his manhood rubbing the mattress as he kept pace with his own thrusting fingers did he climax once again. She came too, and he lay between her legs resting until dawn.

With their new discovery that body parts would not fall off if they made love repeatedly, they spent the entire Sunday in bed. They tried all sorts of different positions, giggling like school children. George found he enjoyed having her on top best, that way he could watch her, and gaze at her beauty, still not believing the she was his wife. He also felt Mary could reach completion that way much easier and without the extra foreplay, not that he minded what came before the act of intercourse.

Mary preferred that George be the one on top, the "traditional position," as George called it. After their first interlude months before, he did some reading up on it, a scandalous book about lovemaking in the rundown bookstore near his place of employment. Mary liked the safety she felt with him above her, and as far as she was concerned, wrapping her legs tightly around him and matching him stroke for stroke brought her to orgasm just as quickly. It was a little tricky with her expanding waistline, but George did his best to please her nonetheless. Neither one liked the position that called for Mary to be on her knees, so they only tried it once that day and never again. All in all, it was the most fun they had ever had in their lives. When night fell and a new day was only a few hours away Mary did something to George that made him melt into the sheets before they had to be removed from the bed.

Curious of the pleasure George gave her when he traveled below to her womanhood, after they bathed together, Mary reciprocated, more out of marvel and wonder than anything else. She had never seen a man naked. Truth be told, it was not until they bathed that she openly saw the parts that made him different. "I'll assume that is what my mother meant by personal measure?" she softly asked staring at him in awe as he dried himself with a towel.

George quickly covered himself mortified to have been seen naked by Mary, being very self-conscious of his member, knowing from his brothers most ladies would only consider him "less than average in size."

Mary thought he was beautiful when bare and she told him, "Why George I never noticed the strong you build you have. Oh my goodness, that fits inside of me?" she remarked looking downward at the distinct part of him that made their bodies dissimilar. George blushed and then pushed his chest out with pride strutting back to the their bed still completely naked, for Mary had not only eased his mind of his inadequacies, she had stroked his ego as well.

Mary joined him under the blankets giggling, "George, close your eyes, I want to do something, but I don't want you to see me." George raised his brow giving her a puzzled look, but did as he was told. He then went wide-eyed and could not help but watch her as she descended down, just as he had to her, kissing from his face to his neck to his chest to navel to his pelvis to his member. She swiftly brushed her lips to it, and he had no reaction. It was flaccid and unresponsive to the shower of quick kisses she pecked upon it. An instinct she had hidden in the back of her mind told her to lick, so she did. It began to fill with whatever made it stiff and she continued from there. Up from the base and to the tip, after only a few passes it was erect and ready for what was to come next. Thinking of her womanhood, she sucked at it. George, with eyes closed again, moaned and shifted, holding her head down to make her take more in. Mary gagged, but contained herself and her fear and repeated the motions she had done while licking. Soon he began to thrust and groan her name, begging her not to stop. Just as he always did when making love, he erratically and without warning began jerking himself into her mouth. Unprepared for his end, she began to choke on the liquid that shot out from him and poured down her throat. She pulled her head back and vomited all over George and the bed.

Devastated that she had ruined their honeymoon, along with the only sheets for the bed they had, Mary hid herself in the bathroom and refused to come out. George was forced to wash himself off in the kitchen sink under cold water and spend the rest of the night pleading with her to emerge and come back to bed. Mary finally did, some time after midnight, and George carried her to the bed that had no sheets and reeked of vomit.

Instead of reprimanding she had readied herself for, George apologized for making his new wife sick. "You are so delicate and expectant, I should not have done that to you. I am so sorry. It will never happen again Mary. I will be more careful next time. Perhaps it is better that there is no next time for that."

Mary apologized too for spoiling the happy day, informing him gleefully, "There will surely be a next time George," for, aside from vomiting all over her new husband; she had truly enjoyed what she did to him.

In the morning, they awoke and George left for the bank without breakfast. The cupboards were empty, and he left meager funds and a list. Mary, as he put it, was to "follow it precisely to the exact penny" to by groceries.

Mary, being well educated in literature, but ill educated in such matters as running the house, needed the aid of her best friend. She and Penny left for the grocer, and did the shopping to the exact the penny as George had instructed. Mary wanted to buy some fancier items and more extravagant products, but Penny corrected, "Mary Elizabeth you don't even know how to cook. Start with the list George gave you. After we are done cleaning, I will show you some simple recipes to begin with. Once you learn, we can always ask George to increase your budget, but for now we must shop to the penny and not a tuppence more."

They finished the shopping, and before putting anything away, they cleaned house. Mary had never gotten down on her hands and knees to scrub anything. Her parents employed a maid, so the filth, grime and muck they were scrubbing out had Mary constantly running to the toilet to vomit. It was a tiny flat with only one room. The kitchen, parlor and bed all sat in the same small area, and the smaller washroom was found hidden behind a curtain, off the kitchen. Certainly not the luxury she was used to, but Mary was convinced to be rich in love was far more important than the comfort that money provided.

Penny spent the entire day teaching Mary how to be a responsible wife to her husband. She had already copied down her own cookbook, providing Mary with the basic essentials she would need to make breakfast, lunch and dinner for her family on George's salary. Penny also showed Mary how to wash clothes in the sink on a washboard, Mary scraping her knuckles until they were sore. When the clothes were clean, the women hung them out to dry on a line that Penny had strung over the heater in the flat. "When George's shirts and pants dry, I will teach you how to iron correctly so he will not have to pay a launderer to do something you can do for free." They tidied and straightened and worked nonstop until George returned from work.

George's brothers told him that when he went to work on Monday; he would be hanging his head in shame. Never having spent an entire day in bed with a lovely woman, engaged in fiery passion, George believed them. Now, spending all of Sunday with Mary engaged in that passion gave George a different attitude when Monday morning at the bank arrived. He held his head high and greeted everyone he met with a smile. He daydreamed his morning away until lunchtime, when he went home to "refresh the Missus," as the other gentlemen called it, when Penny went home to get her iron and ironing board. His supervisor noticing his cheery disposition, and hearing the local gossip of his newlywed status, dismissed him early allowing him to return to his new wife.

As happy as they were, there was no doubt about it, George and Mary were destitute. His clerk's pay was fine for a single unmarried bachelor living at home with his parents without the hope of marrying. But for a newlywed supporting a wife with a child on the way, it was simply not enough. After only a month of marriage, they were broke and could not afford groceries after paying the weekly rent.

George, being good with juggling numbers, checked the books Mary kept, and found numerous errors and expenditures for things they did not need. Scolding her carelessness ("I don't care that you burnt the roast, you should not throw meat away, I could have eaten a week's worth of leftovers from that, burnt or raw!") broke his heart as well as hers, so he relieved her of that duty. On Saturday, they went to the greengrocer's together and bought only what they needed. There were many nights that George went to bed hungry, because they did not have enough for both of them to eat. "No, Mary, you are eating for two, I'm not hungry, anyway, and I had a large breakfast." He hadn't eaten breakfast that day, but Mary had an increasing appetite and strange cravings that cost money.

George got another job outside the bank, keeping the books for the undertaker who ran his business in the first floor of the building where they resided. Just as Mary could not keep the accounts straight, neither could the undertaker. George found mistakes that, unlike Mary's, which cost them money; the undertaker had many people owing him money. So pleased with George's hard work and skill at finding his missing profits, he would scavenge for the newlyweds in the homes of the deceased, whose bodies he went to claim. It started small with a picture for their wall, but as time went on, he brought them dishes and pots and a fancy sofa they put at the foot of their bed. "Just think of it as bonuses for good services George," the undertaker told him jovially.

By February, George had made enough to just get by, but was almost too tired to stand. He worked as much overtime as the bank would allow, and then it was off to the dank basement office of the undertaker, where he would balance accounts and count money until the late hours of night. Mary liked to sit and visit with him as he worked, but he found she was a distraction.

She missed him dearly and worried about his condition. In only a few months of marriage, he had lost a considerable amount of weight and his skin had grown pale. She worried that, in the cold weather, he could catch a cold that could take his life. It was then Mary pawned her grandmother's diamond broche, a precious item, which she had taken from her parents' home. Her grandmother left it to Mary in her will as her inheritance. With the money, she bought George a warm winter coat, hat, scarf and gloves. With the amount left, she had him invest it in a savings account for the baby, who was due in April.

"You should not have done that," he told her. "I have a fine coat for the winter. I wanted you to keep that for when we are better off; I'll never forgive myself if I cannot retrieve it. I am not worthy of any gifts, for I am making you live in poverty."

"I don't care where I live, George, as long as I am with you," she responded warmly.

But as hard as they tried to make it work, it seemed as though outside forces were continually aligned against them. Their landlord kept raising their rent. (Mary later learned that he was a personal friend of her father's.) George soon lost his job at the bank when his father and brothers removed all their accounts in late February. "We're very sorry George, but we can not afford to loose our customers due to your private situations."

With no money and nowhere to go, they moved in with Penny's mother. She had a little cottage, and George and Mary made their place in a tiny room off the kitchen, with only enough room to sleep in. They sold all their belongings, except for their bed, and put the funds into savings. No longer would Mary have the luxury of being a housewife who remained at home. At seven months along, Penny's mother found her work as a charwoman for an elderly couple that lived in the posh section of town. Now George was not the only one who kept late hours in the night, the couple Mary cleaned for would only allow her access after nine in the evenings.

George was a kind and forgiving man, his wife the same. But under such heinous and intentional attacks, Mary vowed to never speak to her parents again. In fact, one early morning in February, as she strolled through the park on her way home from her night shift as a servant, she met her mother and Aunt Millicent. They were stunned to see how large Mary was in the waist, not to mention the dirty rags she was attired in from spending the night scrubbing the toilet, bathtub and ceramic tiles of her employer's bathroom. Both were not just happy see her well, but see her at all. Mrs. Baker broke out in tears and went to embrace her daughter, "Mary Elizabeth, come here..."

Aunt Millicent also expected a hug, but neither were to receive one, for Mary ignored them and continued on as if they were never there at all, even after her mother called after her. Mary kept her pace, and Mrs. Baker dropped to her knees. "She looks filthy dirty, she doesn't even have clean clothes. They are so poor, its all my fault," Mrs. Baker repeated over and over again as she took off in a quick pace to her husband's bakery without waiting for Millicent.

George felt the same about his own family. He was forced to apply at another bank and was hired, but instead of a clerk, he was only a teller. Soon his father and brothers found out where he was working and moved all their money there. A week later they made a big stink about his poor attitude with wealthy customers, and he was again let go.

The undertaker did not care what people whispered about the new Mr. and Mrs. Darling, for he liked them just the same. "There is no shame in doing right by the woman you love. And if God knew you were to be married, He wouldn't mind you dipping in early, just as long as you were responsible to pay the piper when he came calling," he told George late at night while he worked. The undertaker gave him good references, and soon, a large conservative bank that did not care about the meager wealth of the Darling Family hired him. There was nothing more his father could do to except wait for his fourth son to come crawling home.

Mary and George did the best with what they had. It upset George to have Mary work, for he knew she was a proper lady, undeserving of hard labor. He was worried that she worked all day long, helping Penny's mother who seemed not to care that she was with child, and then all night long at her job as charwoman. As soon as he was able, and not a second later, George had Mary quit her position, and he moved them into a better flat, still in the seedy part of London, but better just the same.

It, too, had a kitchen with a small washroom off the side, but a separate parlor and one bedroom large enough for their bed and baby crib, which was donated by the undertaker. George kept up his pace with two jobs and had Mary stay home, knitting baby clothes, all pink with pretty patterns, cleaning, cooking, doing the laundry and keeping the place as tidy as possible. There she gave her husband the only joy he received during his day. It was when he came home, finding freshly pressed shirts and pants, a hot meal on the table, and not a speck of dust to be found, the best she could do as well. But just as they were convinced they were out of the rain and into the sunlight, another onslaught of nasty rumors were spread, and deceitful acts were committed against them.

Aunt Millicent never missed an opportunity to gossip about her fallen and spoiled niece and the pervert she married. Her parents filed charges against the newlyweds for theft, and an officer of the law was dispatched to their apartment to arrest George for stealing Mary's grandmother's broche. Seeing Mary was not far from her time, the officer let George off with a warning. He reported the next day to Mr. and Mrs. Baker that their daughter and her husband could not have taken it, for they were both hard at work from dawn till midnight, George as a bank clerk and accountant, Mary as a maid.

Mr. and Mrs. Darling then sent their fourth son a bill for room and board for the years he lived in their home from the time he graduated university. When George began to send payments, they sent another bill for his tuition at the private schools he had attended.

Bewildered, but not defeated, George and Mary sat down and had a heart to heart talk. "We can not afford to have this baby, we can't even manage with just two of us," he told Mary as calmly as he could, knowing that admitting this would be the same as admitting he was just as afraid about going forward with their marriage as she was. Mary did not look well since their war with their parents became fierce and intolerable. She sat in silence and said nothing as he went over their options. "We can stay married, but we will have to leave this baby at the orphanage. Or you can go home to your parents with the baby and I will beg their forgiveness and promise to support it but never see you again." George did not like either choice, but with no other one apparent, he hung his head.

"If I went home, my parents would take the baby away and leave it in an orphanage. And George, where would you go? I want to stay married to you, and I want to keep our baby with us where it belongs. I know I can't have everything I want, but these are things I must have. I must have you and I must have this baby with us. Unless you don't want me or the baby anymore."

George shook his head, his blue eyes closed and his expression miserable. "I can't imagine how horrible my life would be without you, Mary, and the baby, well it's just as much mine as it is yours. But I will not lie and tell you everything will be fine. We are behind on all our bills, and after I pay the rent, there will not be enough money to buy food for the week. We are going to be out on the streets, and although I think we can survive if we had to, I'm not sure our child can. Don't you want to give our baby the best chance in life? The orphanage can place the baby with a wealthy family that will be able to give our child all the riches in the world."

Mary listened to George and began to cry. She didn't even want to imagine being alive and knowing another part of the two of them was living elsewhere in the world. That they could not have and love the child themselves.

"I'll go back to work, I'll get a better job..." Mary tried but George only shook his head.

"Who will watch the baby? Your parents won't, neither would mine. Penny works a full time job and her mother is already watching Penny's daughter and you said it yourself, she is horrible with the baby. She was just to the doctor's for a nasty rash from letting that unfortunate child sit in a soiled diaper all day, and we can not afford to pay a nanny or physician."

Mary wiped her face and looked to the only other person she knew who could save the day. "Can't we just leave it in the hands of God and trust in Him?" was her only suggestion. George loved Mary and wanted so much to give her the life she deserved, but at every turn, down every road, he found nothing but dead ends.

They went to bed that night and did not sleep. In the morning, they went to church, as they did every Sunday. They sat in the back and prayed, it was the first mass of the day, and special for those who were poor and penniless. No collection plate was passed but the priest gave his sermon just the same. When it was finished, they walked arm and arm slowly home, no closer to a resolution than when they arrived.


	7. Chapter 7 The Wendy That Almost Wasn't

My Darling Love

Chapter 7 – The Wendy That Almost Wasn't

"_Before you were conceived, I wanted you._

_Before you were born, I loved you._

_Before you were here an hour, I would die for you."_

_-Maureen Hawkins_

Aside from being tortured by her parents and in-laws, Mary had an uneventful pregnancy. She only had brief morning sickness in the beginning, which went away by itself in her later months. The first time she felt the life inside of her truly move on Christmas, the day she wanted her dream baby to be born. She felt a sharp swift kick that was unmistakably a foot. She grew larger and full in the waist to where her maternity clothes were snug and uncomfortable, but she never complained always treasuring every moment of it.

The stress and havoc caused by their parents did not subside in the spring, increasing instead. Out of ideas and out of luck, George and Mary decided that, when their child was born, they would take it to the church mission and put it up for adoption. Then they would move away from London and start life anew as husband and wife, somewhere else. So, on the Sunday following the last when they prayed, they met with the priest and made the arrangements. "I know this is a difficult decision for you both, and I will do everything in my power to see that this baby has the best life possible. There are many wealthy families in the church who are waiting to be blessed with life."

Mary and George signed the papers to turn the baby over, only requesting, "Not a family from this church, but from another parish elsewhere."

It was the hardest choice Mary ever had to make, but seeing her husband, her darling love, used up before her very eyes left her no other option. George was always healthy and strong, but now he'd faded into an elderly man who awoke at dawn to work and did not return until late in the night. She was sure he did not eat during the day, and he hid what little food she had packed for him back in the cupboards when he left in the morning. So she agreed, and it was decided that, in order to stay together, they would need to sacrifice further.

It made Mary furious to know both sets of parents lived in luxury, while they were trying to make their lives the best they could, and were being tyrannized on purpose. Not one with a head for numbers, she took pen to paper and wrote down all their debts. The money George had paid out to both her parents and his own, and the bills they continued to pay. Adding another insult, with the birth only days away, Mr. Baker sent the newlyweds yet another invoice, charging his only daughter for her two ruined weddings to the bigger fish. Without the continual oppression from their parents, George and Mary would have been able to afford a home of their own by now, only months after they married. It made her so angry that Mary packed their entire flat, readying both her and husband to move the moment their child was born and turned over to the priest and the orphanage.

The sixteenth day of April began just as any other for Mary. She got up, got dressed, sent her husband on his way to work after making him eat breakfast, and did her chores. Somewhere between washing the dishes and starting the laundry, Mary noticed she had a distinct cramping in her middle that came and went every few minutes. Soon, as she hung the clothes out to dry over the heater in their flat, the pain which was annoying but not bothersome became quicker and sharper, shooting pains that stretched across her belly and down into her pelvis, making her stop what she was doing until they passed. With the laundry done, Mary spent an hour grasping on tightly to the back of the chair, holding her tongue out of fear, for whatever she was feeling only came more swiftly and was increasingly more difficult to bear. One wicked jolt of contractions surged through her abdomen finally causing a rush of water to splash from her landing on the floor below. Mary cried out in absolute horror. Her next-door neighbor, a widower, beat down the door to gain access. There on the floor, lying in a pool of blood and water was Mrs. George Darling, holding inside of her a baby that was dead set on seeing the sunlight that day.

George was summoned at work and rushed home to find Mary in hard labor in their bed. She screamed for him, and he sat with her through the evening into the night and next morning. The midwife continued to check her progress but had a dismal expression every time she rose from between her legs. "It will be another day or so, probably best if you return to work. I will send for you if anything happens."

George didn't want to leave, and Mary begged him to stay, but midwife was right. If he missed more work, he would lose that job as well, and frankly, there were no more banks in London to work for. "Another day or so? Will she be in pain for that entire time?" George asked fixing on his coat. The midwife only nodded and added, "It's hard work bringing a baby into the world."

George was back to his place of employment, leaving Mary with Penny and the midwife. It was another day or so, the nineteenth of April to be exact, before Mary progressed enough to start pushing. It came in the evening, when George was home.

"Pushing?" George queried as the midwife shoved him from the room, assuring him he did not want to see his lovely wife with her legs open to the world while she expelled the baby from her body.

"Yes, Mr. Darling, Mary has to help the baby along in order for it to come out. You didn't expect a tiny baby to be able to pull itself out, now did you? No, it has to be pushed out, and your wife is the one who had to do the pushing."

George followed her back to the bedroom door, "That does not hurt as well, does it?" he asked hopefully, only to get a rather stupefied look from the midwife.

"It is the worst pain imaginable Sir. If she rips, it will be even worse than that. There is no pain a man experiences like it in the world. It's a wonder more women don't die giving birth."

Penny was with her and so was midwife, who was tired and disheveled from the "stubborn baby who doesn't want to come out," and "that husband who keeps asking the most daft questions." Finally as the bells tolled the hour before midnight, Penny peeked through the door and asked George for a word. "There is not a lot of time, George, the baby is breech. That means it wants to come out the wrong way. Mary is having an awful time and she growing weaker by the moment. She says she can't push anymore, and the baby is not helping. This is the hardest question anyone will ever ask you, but if you had to chose between Mary and the baby, George, what would it be?"

"I can't live without Mary," he responded before she finished her query. Penny nodded her head, agreeing with his answer. "What are you going to do?"

Penny gazed at George and held his face in her hands, "Everything I can to save them both." Penny turned around to go back inside without another word.

George sat on the sofa and prayed that God would listen, begging and pleading not only for Mary's life but for the life of his first born child, "Please God I swear I will break my back working to provide for them, please God have mercy on me and spare them. Give Mary the strength to go on and give my baby the desire to want to be born."

An hour later, after the bells tolled in the new day, a baby wailing behind the door could be heard. "It's a girl, Mr. Darling and a healthy one at that!" the midwife shouted to George in the doorway. Just as George had always done his best to make Mary happy, she did the same, although hers, was a more arduous task. Her body was torn, pushing the little baby into the world, and was now a broken and bleeding mess on the bed. She was barely awake, and asked for George, so he went. Before she closed her eyes to take to her rest she told him, "George, if I die, you must promise me you will keep her."

He nodded stoking her face, shedding the first tears of fatherhood, and added, "We were keeping her anyway, Mary."

With his new daughter fast asleep in the bassinet beside his desk, George sat and wrote out all their expenses and debts. He combined all the money owed to both the Bakers and the Darlings and calculated a total with interest. Then he tipped his hat to Penny who sat watching the baby, and went to see his friend the undertaker.

Not too proud to beg for a loan, the undertaker gave it willingly and told George, "It's a shame what God fearing people will do to their own children, pay me back when you can manage and I won't accept one cent of interest. If I ever see your folks or you're wife's, I'll spit on them." He finished with, "Congratulations, George, a baby girl born first, oh she'll break your heart hundreds of times before she's two, but in the end she will be the one who will bring you the most joys later in your life."

George went home and drew up a letter to both Bakers and Darlings. In it, he stated that this was the final payment of all monies he and his wife owed them, with interest. He added, choking on his frustration, that if any more harassments or bills were ever sent to the new Mr. And Mrs. George Darling, said couple would take their parents to court, and plead poverty for all the world and proper London to hear.

Upon receiving their letters and their money, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Baker and Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth, fearing the bad image their children would cast upon them, conceded defeat. But they still took every single cent George paid.

Mary awoke later in the day sore and suffering as a woman who had just spent three days in hard labor should be. Even though she was to rest in bed for a few days, Mary was very interested in her new daughter. She undressed the tiny thing and checked over every spot on her body, tiny feet, tiny toes, tiny fingers and hands, chubby legs and arms, a little bottom and a baldhead. "Look George, all new parts." She held her little girl and sang her to sleep, preferring to keep her in bed with them, as opposed to the crib. Mary breastfed with no problems and always handed the little newborn off to George whenever he was home, to be burped.

George and Mary lay on the bed with their child in their laps and stared at her asleep, wrapped in a white blanket Mary had made herself. "She's our angel, Mary, our little angel from heaven."

Mary wanted to name her Georgeanne, and call her Annie for short. George preferred Gwendolyn, and Wendy for short. It was a conversation of a round about manner with the constant repetition of "whichever you like better dearest, you choose." Finally Mary chose her own favorite, Georgeanne. The only trouble was, at only a week old, she didn't look like an Annie. So before they filed for her birth certificate at the registrar's office, they changed it to Wendy. "Gwendolyn Angelina Darling," George proudly said when the clerk asked for the baby's official title. "Angelina for a middle name, that's lovely George." Mary responded holding baby Wendy in her arms. "I know its silly but she is our angel, so Angelina..." He blushed embarrassed, but Mary only smiled, "It's a far better choice then Gertrude, which was what I was to suggest."

As much as Mary loved being pregnant with George's baby she loved being a mommy more. She doted on their new arrival as best she could in her condition. The midwife had prescribed bed rest for a week. After two weeks of bleeding gave her fainting spells, a physician was called. He insisted she stay abed almost a month. Once she was back on her feet, she still needed to take rest several times during the day.

She remembered stories of her mother's experiences at her own birth, and she knew this was what it must have been like in her parent's home long ago. Just like her father, George told her there were to be no more children. "I almost lost you, there is no way I could ask you to go through that again." So instead of having three perfect darlings, Mary and George would have to settle with one, to Mary's dismay. "Look at it this way, Mary," George told her one evening, "You and Wendy will always have me outnumbered."

So, having only one child, George and Mary made the best of what they had with Wendy. They took her to the park every Saturday to play, and brought her to see God on Sunday. She loved being in the Lord's house and yelled out in baby ramblings as the choir sang their hymns. "We're sorry, Father Christopher, we try to shush her, but she loves the music."

Father Christopher was the priest who had married them, and he was the same priest who had arranged to put Wendy up for adoption while Mary still carried her. "No, of course, George, I understand. There will be no problems withdrawing the adoption papers. Between you and me, I didn't even inform the monsignor of your interest in offering your child up to another couple. Best the baby stays with her true parents."

Seeing George and Mary's child, healthy and happy with a toothless smile, made the priest's heart sing as well. "No, Mary and George, you let that baby sing in this church as much as she wants. God likes to hear the little voices giving praise as well as those in tune with the organ." Whatever free time they had, they gave to Wendy and she loved their undivided attention, calling "dada" first, for it was easier to say, and "mama" next for that was what Wendy really wanted to say.

Without the debt to their parents, they were able to save enough money to buy a small home by the time Wendy took her first steps.

George still worked two jobs and their carefree days, if there ever were any, were over. Their passion, once red hot, was now cold as ice. Mary first noticed George's aversion to her on their first anniversary. He gave her flowers and a peck on the cheek, but later, as she retired to bed in her fancy nightgown (the same one she'd worn their first night in Penny's bed) George directed her to "put something on, Mary, before you catch your death." She did, and returned to bed only to find him fast asleep.

For months, George had not made any attempt to make love to Mary after Wendy was born, and now she was celebrating her first birthday. "Maybe he fears you will have another baby," Penny offered when Mary confided to her. "You are still breastfeeding Wendy and you should not conceive another until she is weaned. But just to give George peace of mind, I will teach you the rhythm method, that is what we use and it seems to work fine." Penny taught her, although it made little difference, for George still did not offer his favors before or after Wendy was weaned.

Try as she might to seduce her husband, he did not respond to her advances. There came the first stalemate in their marriage. It began as mild bickering: "Must you leave your socks on the floor?" but soon turned into a little war of wills. Mary became cold and silent while George was insensible and uninterested in anything not having to do with Wendy.

Fearing her husband was having an affair, she confronted him with her accusation. "Good lord, Mary, whatever would make think that?" he was taken aback as well as insulted, "How dare you speak to me that way after working all day to put food on the table and pay the bills," and he too became silent. George rose in the morning and ate his breakfast reading the morning paper ignoring Mary. She washed the dishes, slamming pots, pans and dishes down to annoy him. It was the same at supper, and far more troublesome, Mary had gotten into the nasty habit of snatching Wendy from George's arms without explanation, keeping their daughter all for herself.

Little Wendy watched her parents from her crib with curious eyes. They both seemed to love her, but why not each other? As time went on, the standoff became more and more hostile. Their silence was broken, and Mary and George shouted at top of their lungs to one another, leaving Wendy crying for them to stop. George slept on the sofa and Mary in their bed and they never hugged or kissed one another, only Wendy.

Mary's monthlies returned like clockwork and George received a promotion from teller to clerk. After awhile George apologized, "I'm sorry Mary we have not gotten along better recently," but Mary wanted no part of it, "I thought we were getting along just fine George." After all she was very strong-minded. So their marriage continued, more roommates than husband and wife. George devoted all his time to work, numbers, stocks and bonds, and Mary devoted all her time to Wendy.

Gwendolyn Angelina Darling grew to a little girl of fifteen months, walking and talking and playing in the summer sun. Those were days Mary liked most. She would take her "little ray of sunshine" to the park and let her run free in the grass and flowers in bloom. Wendy loved her mother very much, all the kisses and hugs that were once only for George, her father, were now hers. She never had to share her mother with her father, for Mary ignored George when he was home. But, as much as Wendy, still only an infant, believed she alone was enough to make her mother happy, Mary had hidden the sorrow deeply in her heart. She would never admit this to Wendy or any children yet to be born, but if she ever had to choose between her children and George, in a heartbeat she would choose her husband. He was the one she promised to forsake all others for, even if she was upset with him.

The July sun was hot, and poured heat down on the city London. It was by far the warmest anyone could remember. Mary and Wendy stayed in their cool little house and hid from the heat outside. George came home from work early with flowers, pink roses, his wife's favorite. "Happy Anniversary," he declared, attempting a peck on his wife's check. She swiftly moved her head away and disregarded his flowers. "Our anniversary is in November, George, not July."

George was crushed and did not hide it, he removed his coat and went to the parlor, taking a chair nearest window and sat staring out as the sun set in the horizon and the moon appeared in the night sky. He did not come to supper when called, nor did respond when Mary told him she was retiring. Instead he sat there with a lost look on his face, as if fate had decided for him that he was to be erased from Mary's heart forever.

Mary was only a young lady of twenty. She had never finished her Aunt Millicent's lessons of the heart. To her, the battle still raged on between them. She had not realized that he had hung the white flag of surrender long ago when he first apologized until she heard him weeping the darkness. With tears in her eyes too she went to him and held him tightly to her. "George, I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you in such a way, I just want you to want me like you once did. When we could not get enough of each other. I still have the fire burning in me, the desire to have you next to me in bed. I know I am different now that I have given birth. My figure is more full, I've tried to slim down, but to no avail..."

George looked up to her, he was older and should have known better. Women are not only fragile in body but in mind. Thinking about, he could not remember the last time he complimented her beauty or her skill keeping the house without a maid and with an infant running about. He too apologized for his actions, reassuring her he was more concerned over another baby than her larger dress size ending with, "I think you are more lovely than ever, Mary, just looking at your breast in that nightdress makes me want to..."

Without finishing his sentence they retired together to the privacy of their bedchamber for the first time since before Wendy arrived. They made love, as the newlyweds they still were, being more careful than they had in the past. George tried his hardest to remove himself before it was too late, and least this time he was successful. "I know that you are practicing a method of birth control, I'm just want to be extra careful, at least for awhile. Maybe someday we will have another..."

In the morning, he was new man, and headed to work with a smile on his face. It would be a great mystery that would haunt Wendy throughout her childhood. As she grew from infancy to a youthful sixteen, she would often wonder why certain days her father would leave for work serious and stern, not acknowledging Mary but the children, wishing them "a good day at school." While other mornings, from the moment he awoke, and as he walked from the house he held constant smile of contentment. Instead of children, he only had eyes for Mary, and would whisper in her ear as he lovingly held her about the waist while she prepared breakfast. He would depart to the bank and have to be reminded by their mother to bid them "a very fine and happy day at school," as if they were not even there in his world.

Wendy would not remember the kisses and hugs only for her, for that was the only time in their marriage that Mary and George fought openly in her presence. As she got older, Wendy would learn that forever George would have her mother's special kisses and hugs, only for him, simply because he came first. Therefore, Wendy was now made to share her mother with her father. It was a battle with a dominant opponent that Wendy would always lose. No matter how much time Mary spent with her during the day, at night (when it mattered most that she not be made to sleep by herself), George got to sleep alongside her mother in their bed. And that elusive kiss, the one in the right-hand corner of Mary's mocking mouth, the one Wendy was convinced she'd finally captured, now returned, because, once again, George put it there.

A month after George's return to their bed, he found it impossible to contain himself and control the urge to fill Mary with his seed, giving his trust that Mary was a responsible grown up and sexual partner mindful of when it was and was not safe to make love in that way. Mary, who preferred to have all of her husband including the part that made a baby inside of her, assured him she continued to practice the rhythm method Penny had taught her. But alas, just as the books of the house she had no skill in keeping, the calendar was just as challenging to her, apparently, and as the autumn blew in she missed her first monthly.

It is incorrect to think their marriage was perfect, for obviously it was not. There would be wars of wills and standoffs lasting for months later in life, but for now, they were known to have many small spats or "lover's quarrels" as Mary called them early in their marriage. The new baby she carried in her belly was one of those little squabbles that took place in their kitchen the night Mary told George she was positive another was on the way.

George hated to raise his voice and he hated to degrade his lovely wife, but her "incompetence on this very important matter," made him "furious and terribly upset." He stood with his hands on his hips shaking his head and then his finger at Mary. She sat on the kitchen chair trying to hide the smile that kept escaping her lips. "Do you know what this means? We have just gotten our affairs and debts in order and finally have the means to really begin saving."

It would have been wiser to hold her tongue, but being immature and still living in a dream of her own creation, Mary responded, "What are we saving for?"

George was flabbergasted and began pacing the kitchen, stuttering nonsense at her stupidity. "Mary, sometimes I feel as though I have two children already, you being worse than Wendy. You simply cannot have everything you want when you want it. You must grow up!" Mary held a stubborn expression as if she was five years old and was just told she was not allowed to go play in the rain.

George went to his desk, and as he had with marriage, Wendy and everything else in his life he adjusted his calculations, figuring the expense of yet another mouth to feed. After many hours hard at work, he went to Mary, already asleep and showed her his work. "I have figured that if we..." do this and that, "we can have another, but just one more." He was quite serious; still a daddy reprimanding his child, when he told her, "You are not to spend anymore money on frivolous unnecessary things. Do you understand?"

She understood and he retired to bed. Once there he held her tightly in his arms. "I'm scared." She knew why he was frightened, and she was too. Having Wendy almost killed her and there was more George feared that he did not even share with his own wife. And so, they both lay entangled in one another and said a silent prayer that God deliver her safely a new baby and watch over their growing family. Mary prayed for boy. It did not matter a baby girl would make it easier without the extra expensive of new baby things. George already had thought of that and was quite content with giving their new baby hand-me-downs. "Another little girl, I think best."


	8. Chapter 8 Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josep...

My Darling Love

Chapter 8 – Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine

"_Other things may change us, but we start and end with family."_

_-Anthony Brandt_

Mrs. Elizabeth Baker was gravely silent when it came to any matter that did not concern her. Her husband, Mr. Joseph Baker, felt that there were no matters that concerned her, not even their only daughter Mary. So, just as in life and more so in approaching death, Mrs. Elizabeth Baker was now and would always would remain as silent as the grave.

Mary's mother died the second Tuesday in November. George's father died the week after. After Mary had run away and gotten married, Mrs. Baker did absolutely nothing. She awoke in the morning and she retired at night, dressing in the proper attire, sitting, eating at meals and nothing else. It would never be known, for no one asked, if the sorrow that consumed her was over the loss of her only child, Mary Elizabeth—the child she spent her life loving but not defending -- or never seeing her only grandchild, now a year and half old.

The day at the park, the day a mother saw her daughter swollen with child practically dragging herself home, exhausted and filthy, sent Mrs. Elizabeth Baker on the first steps to her deathbed. "I don't care if she was out begging in the streets, Elizabeth, I wish she would beg in front of my shop, that way I could kick her till she's dead and that bastard baby too..." Mr. Baker retorted as his wife arrived at his counter in the bakery out of breath and drained of tears. That was that. Mrs. Baker went home without another word and never spoke to anyone ever again.

Most swear there are no modern miracles, but those who swear on it, obviously don't live in the Bakers' home. Mary's father knew the new Mr. and Mrs. Darling had a baby girl but was unaware of the name chosen.

His sister, Millicent, told him of the baby's arrival at the same counter in the same shop where Mrs. Baker had beseeched her husband for mercy. "Mary had a girl months ago, what is it, October? I never even received a birth announcement! How rude! Anyway Joseph, I hear she looks like George, poor child."

At this news, Mr. Baker closed up shop and rushed home to inform his wife they were proud grandparents. He sat down to personally pen an invitation to the new couple, now a family, which read, "Please come to dinner in our home. Our door is always open to you." It was his attempt to reconcile their differences -- over six months after Wendy was born. He received it back in the post marked, "Moved – Left no forwarding address."

The Bakers had a portrait of Mary painted when she was only three. It was in their formal sitting parlor and hung over the fireplace. Everyday, while doing nothing, still speechless, Mrs. Baker would sit on the sofa and look purposelessly at it. Only she herself knew that, in her mind, she had replaced features in Mary's face with those of George. She guessed at names that her only child would have picked, "Audrey Elizabeth Darling, Lucille Mary Darling, Eleanor Josephine Darling," never coming close to the correct one, Gwendolyn Angelina Darling, for it was George's favorite that they had chosen.

When Mr. Baker returned home from his shop, he did the same thing, "Elizabeth Josephine Darling, Charlotte Henrietta Darling, Winifred Caroline Darling." Every Sunday they arrived to second mass extra early in hopes of catching sight of their estranged children leaving, and every Sunday they would return home no closer to a name or a face for their granddaughter.

"Father Christopher says she's beautiful, and sings along with the service," Mr. Baker offered at breakfast. "They go to first mass, Elizabeth, but leave during his sermon, because the baby gets to be wandering around and disturbing the other parishioners praying." Mr. Baker was not expecting to hear his wife give voice so when she did he fell off his chair.

"What is her name?" Mrs. Baker replied, breaking the silence that had lasted well over a year and a half.

Mr. Baker hung his head in shame. After all this time, the one question his wife asked, was the only one he did not have an answer for, "Father Christopher said if I didn't know, he wasn't going to tell me."

On that Sunday, the first Sunday in November, Mrs. Baker went to her deathbed. The only other thing she said to her husband was, "For all your sins against me, Joseph, countless in number, you get me my daughter. I want to see her before I die, or I swear I will keep you locked out of heaven myself."

Her faithful husband dispatched messengers to all the banks of London to find his exiled son-in-law. It took them a week. In the last place they looked, they found George, by accident balancing his associates' ledgers at another desk.

"Excuse me sir," they asked an employee, "I'm looking for Mr. George Darling. Do you know where I can find him?" The messenger pointed to George's desk, now vacated.

George replied, "I'm George Darling." The messenger handed him an anonymously addressed letter and took flight back to Mr. Baker for the generous reward promised to the lucky man who tracked his daughter down.

George read the note, then reread it, gave it thought and left for home on lunch hour to inform his wife of her mother's imminent demise. George continued to read the letter from his father-in-law over and over again on his walk home. He was a kind soul and even though their parents caused them great suffering when they should have given relief and aid, he felt it inappropriate that a dying old woman was not granted her last wish. Or so he said.

George had expected tears, but found that Mary only shrugged her shoulders and asked, "Does she expect us to reimburse my father for her funeral as well?"

He had disclosed nothing of the letter's contents to his wife, only responding to her practical comment, "No Mary, your father is not requesting money. Your mother was begging that you, her only daughter, be by her side as God calls her to her final repose. And I think, as your husband, you should be there for her and give her this, at the very least, the peace of mind that you are happy in your life."

That evening, George literally dragged Mary to the Bakers' home. She refused to take Wendy. "They said they didn't want to see our children or know they were alive, and who am I to deny my parent's request?" Though George wanted to take her along, and even dressed her himself for their excursion, Mary insisted they leave Wendy with their neighbor, who was more than happy to watch her.

Mary was again swollen, now with their second child, and their reception from Aunt Millicent was not warm one. She answered the bell on her way out, "Oh no, not again! Did you not just have a baby? Mary Elizabeth, you are so fat now, you'll never get your figure back." Millicent shook her head at George, shooting him a look of utter disgust as he and Mary removed their coats and entered. "Mary Elizabeth, if you continue to have children with this..." she had no words to describe the abhorrent creature George was so she only glanced at him up and down making a face as if he smelt of rotten eggs and added insult to injury with, "no man of good breeding will ever want to marry you." Mary and George were quiet and held their tongues, pushing past her to the parlor where Mr. Baker stood, having just got up from his chair.

Mary anticipated the same from her father, and held her blank expression toward him refraining from any greeting, but Mr. Joseph Baker was a changed man. It was truly a modern miracle! He was more elderly than Mary remembered. She had never seen him this overjoyed when anyone who was welcome in his home visited. Mr. Baker saw Mary first as she walked ahead of George, and he flew to her as if he had wings, embracing her so tightly she could not breath. Mary, of her own stubborn and mistrusting mind did not reciprocate the hug. He caught sight of George standing behind his Mary, and, still hugging her, refusing to let go of his baby girl, he shook his son-in-law's hand hard and vigorously. George had to extract his hand from Mr. Baker's as he felt it would surely come from its socket if the older man continued with his gleeful gesture of welcome.

Mr. Baker held Mary by the shoulders face to face with him, and finally kissed her gently on the cheek. "Married life is agreeing with you, Mary Elizabeth. I don't think I've ever seen you look so beautiful. And there is another baby coming? Good. Good for you George." First he touched Mary's cheek, speaking of her beauty, then he touched her belly, speaking of the baby, finally he shook George's hand again, complimenting him on his ability to keep Mary pregnant and in good form, causing George to release a mild grin of pride that radiated from his manly ego. Mary held the same emotionless expression without flinching.

"Where's my granddaughter?" he asked with a smile that ran ear to ear, throwing out his arms as if any moment she would run in and jump up into them.

"We left her home with the neighbor," George said, still standing behind Mary, nodding his head in his wife's direction, showing it was Mary's decision and not his own. His father-in-law's great disappointment clouded his now-wrinkled face.

Mr. Baker was plump with a gray beard that was overgrown and bushy and wore spectacles that always fell down on his nose. Just as tall as George, he was now overly hospitable, and demanded his son-in-law take a seat in his very favorite chair, the most comfortable in the house, and offered him a drink. "Anything you like out of my liquor cabinet, George, top shelf of course, the finest in the house, you name it and I'll pour you a large never ending glass full!"

George was still taken aback at the change in his father-in-law's once-hateful disposition, and stuttered, "Thank you, Mr. Baker, tea is fine."

Mr. Baker was intent on giving George a man's drink, but before he could insist Mary inquired, "May I go see mother in your room?"

Mr. Baker stopped in his tracks and turned to face Mary, once again walking up to her to hold her in a loving embrace, "Of course you can, Mary Elizabeth, she will be so happy to see you." He released her and walked to his liquor cabinet. "You know, she's been asking about you Mary Elizabeth, constantly. But before you go, why don't you sit down right here next to George, and tell me all about my granddaughter. I feel the fool, whatever did you name her?"

With Mr. Baker still rambling on asking of Wendy, pouring George his drink, Mary ascended the stairs without answering him, and returned only a few minutes later. "Are you ready to leave, George?"

He had only just received his scotch, but was up with his coat and hat before Mr. Baker could take a seat alongside him.

"You are not leaving already! You just arrived, Mary Elizabeth. And George, his drink, you must at least allow him to finish his drink. He works hard all day long and deserves a fine liquor once and a while. It is a very good scotch. George, take a seat and rest. Mary Elizabeth, you do the same," her father directed nicely with a smile.

It was Mary who spoke up. "I am sorry, Mr. Baker, but we do have to be going. It's getting late and we must put our daughter to bed." George was shocked, and stood mouth agape to hear his wife address her own father by his formal title.

Before George could find his voice, her father spoke up. "Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, you are to call me 'father'. For I have earned it, giving you your life and raising you in this house." Mr. Baker began choking on his words as he began to cry, "I know there are things I did in the past to you and George that are too horrible to mention, but that doesn't make me any less your father. God will punish my sins worse then you even could, I assure you, especially if your mother makes it to heaven before I. I'm asking your forgiveness and George's forgiveness, let us make our peace this night." Mr. Baker's eyes pleaded with her, and George could see that whatever malice he had carried in his heart was transformed into a sincere desire to do right for his only child and her family.

Too much had been done to her and to George for Mary to forgive this night, and so with her father on their heels, begging them to stay, they departed into the night and returned to Wendy.

"You were very unkind to your father," George began as they strolled to their modest home. "He wanted to apologize and be forgiven. You should have at least let him speak his mind."

Mary stopped on the street, turned to him, and held his hand to her heart. "George, how would you feel if you knew, in your heart, that I was doing something to our children, causing them immeasurable pain and suffering, then hiding behind the lie that it was in their best interest that they be made to endure the agony?" she asked.

"You would never purposely hurt our children, Mary," George responded, already uncomfortable with her question.

"That's not what I asked, George. I asked, if I were doing that to them, and you were there watching, what would you do?"

"I would defend them--" George began.

Mary interrupted, "To the death," causing her husband to step back from her while watching her carefully, attempting to see what lay hidden behind her eyes.

"Yes Mary, I would defend them to the death, no matter what I had to do to make you stop. I love you more than I love myself, but I will not tolerate you ever harming one of the children God and I have entrusted you with."

"You know what I would do if I thought you were slowly killing our children with greed for wealth? Showering lies and deceit about them? Sending them bills for debts never owed? Calling the constable on them for stealing something that is rightfully theirs? Forcing our only daughter marry a man she does not love? I would tell you that you were wrong, George. I would stand up for our children and fight you with word and deed, the same way you would if it were I. Most important of all, even if you controlled my every waking moment, if I thought you were wicked in your ways with them, I would find a way to help them without you ever knowing. I would make them see that I was not the enemy. And then I would do whatever I could to draw us all back together and be the family we should be." Mary pulled George into her embrace and rested her head upon his chest.

"I know that we stand together differently than my parents do, and for that I am thankful. I will honor and respect you because I believe in the goodness in your heart and I believe you do know best. And still, if I were convinced that you were wrong, I would tell you and then I would tell my children."

George wrapped his arm around Mary and guided her back into a slow stroll home, "What did your mother say to you, Mary, that is making you think of such things."

Mary leaned into his embrace holding her hands to her eyes to hide the tears that filled them. "My mother said her greatest regret in life was that she didn't defend me from my father and from my Aunt Millicent. She said, had she been a better mother, and not such a coward, she could have lived in the dreams she created these past two years of having a happily married daughter to spend her mornings with, drinking tea and chatting, along with a granddaughter she could watch running in the park and playing in her parlor all afternoon. But she wasn't brave. She was weak and let my Aunt Millicent and father lead her around by the nose. She said she did what she did because she loved my father more than herself, more than me, even after he spent years proving himself unworthy of the honor. Therefore, the only time we drank tea together, gossiping about the neighbors, and the only time she heard our Wendy call her Grandma was the fantasies in her mind. She made me promise to never do that to my own children, and to never let you do that to them either. I told her I didn't have to promise, for neither you nor I are monsters."

George nodded as Mary spoke biting he lower lip, "So I suppose there will never be peace with your father then, Mary?"

Mary nudged him purposely, causing him to trip and fall, and then helped him up, not having intended him to fall because of her playfulness. As she helped him tidy his coat and replace his hat, she replied, "My mother told me that she the last time she really spoke to him, they were arguing about me. I was still carrying Wendy. She told him that one day he would change his mind about us, about our family and he would be the one begging us to return to him and love him. When she is gone and he is without us, he will be old, alone and unloved. He told her she was crazy, and then he told her to shut up and mind her own business, adding he would never forgive me or my husband or my baby for that matter. She told him if he would not reconcile with us, and if he went on with whatever hell he was putting us in, we would never forgive him, and that was to make all the difference. You know, George, my father forgave us the moment he heard our daughter was born. Since my mother was never right about anything in her life, she asked me to make her right this time. She told me I can grant him absolution for his sins against us, but not until she was buried in the ground. That was her final request, and I will grant it so she will never have to see the day."

The next morning, after receiving last rites by Father Christopher, Mrs. Elizabeth Baker died of a broken heart. The day after that, she was lowered into the ground. Mary stood separate from her father with Penny, as she was let down into her final resting place. "Can I stop over your home tonight, Mary Elizabeth, and talk with you and George? Maybe even meet your beautiful baby daughter?" Mr. Baker asked kindly, holding his hat in his hand with his head lowered as if speaking to a Queen.

"Not tonight father, I will have to speak with George about it."

Her father asked when he should expect word, and Mary shook her head, "Maybe tomorrow." He took "tomorrow" as an invitation and paid his daughter and her family a visit in their modest home the next day.

Mary and George sat in their parlor, holding hands and listening to her father make his peace with them. He presented George with all the money, every single cent that had been paid to him from the new Mr. and Mrs. Darling their first year of marriage with interest. George accepted it graciously, and the next day put it into his risk-free investments.

Mary introduced Wendy to the grandfather she never knew, and she loved him just as much as he loved her. Just like he'd prayed for, Wendy bounded into the room and jumped up onto his lap dressed for bed and kissed his cheek. She fell asleep in her grandfather's arms, and as she made funny faces and puckered her lips in slumber, Mr. Baker watched on in awe. "She's beautiful, and I love her name. It brings back such good memories. It's a family name you know..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Mary retrieved Wendy and put her to bed. George eased his father-in-law's worries that this would be the last time he got to see his granddaughter with, "There is another on the way, and soon, you'll not only have a grandchild, but grandchildren to rest in your lap."

Thankful that little ones would be using his lap, Mr. Baker asked, "When?" The question was directed towards his daughter who reentered the room.

Mary simply responded, "May." All night long she only gave her father one-word answers. George, never one for small talk, stammered his way through supper, speaking of stocks and bonds and the activity of the market.

It was that night that Mary forgave her father, but did not forget what he had done. He was now "Grandpa Joe" to Wendy, and "Father" to Mary, and "Sir" (for now) to George. Although Mr. Baker would have preferred George use a more relaxed family title, the grin that fled Mary's lips when he told George he preferred "father", made him change his mind. "Call me Sir if you like, or you can use my first name, Joe, George. Call me anything, whatever makes you comfortable." George never called him anything else, preferring Sir just the same.

There was one thing George needed to learn about Grandpa Joe, something Mary was already all too familiar with. Mr. Baker was the king of his castle, and was very bossy at times, always insisting on being in control. That night, in the Darling's modest new home, he informed his daughter and her husband that they would immediately be moving back in to his house to live. He reasoned, "You will need a larger residence once the new baby comes, and my house is the best to raise a family in."

And so, with everything else from here to there, that was that. Grandpa Joe made good on the word he gave that night to be a better man, a better father and the best grandfather, and paid to move his daughter and her family out of their tiny cottage into his grand home out of his own pocket. "You can take your old room with George, Mary Elizabeth, and you can put Wendy in the smaller room next door. You can change whatever you like in the house, and please make this place your home. Move around the furniture, hang some new pictures, change the curtains, whatever you want."

Mary and George liked the house the way it was and changed nothing. "It's fine the way it is, father, thank you."

Grandpa Joe had forgiven them for running away and getting married, and was now delighted that they were both so happy together, but he still held tiny grudges against George that were never spoken. The first was for taking his only daughter to bed without a wedding ring on her finger. The second was for not being able to control his urges and getting her pregnant. (Mr. Baker had taken his wife to bed well before she wore white down the aisle, but was successful in keeping her unexpectant.) The third and most irritating was simply that George was not a commanding man. He was shy and reserved, which made Mr. Baker think of him as a wimp or sissy. George's only salvation was that Mr. Baker believed in his soul that his son-in-law would work nonstop to support his family until his heart no longer beat, and he would go hungry just so they could have food in the cupboards and a place to live. That he admired, and though he didn't like George that much, he respected him.

Mary loved George and respected him. Her father watched her beaming pride as she listened to her husband when he spoke. She often told him, "You know best, my darling." She never talked back to George nor gave him reason to be angry; she always presented herself like a lady and dressed the part. She always kept a clean house, and always had supper hot on the table when George walked in the door, serving him dinner first before any other guest at their table. Every night, while George read the paper in the parlor with the company of Mr. Baker, Mary gave Wendy a bath and put her to bed. Then she would descend the stairs and tell George she was to retire. He would put down the paper and follow behind her. Mr. Baker, once a newlywed man himself, would shake his head and drink his tea. He knew why George smiled in the mornings, even if Wendy couldn't figure it out.

Mr. Frederick Darling the Fourth went into the ground without ever speaking to his fourth son again. His three older sons buried him, then split whatever money he had left between them. The oldest son sent their mother from her home, and promptly sold it to repay their father's outstanding gambling debts to the loan sharks who showed up uninvited to his funeral. Where Mr. Baker saved every cent that George repaid, Mr. Darling squandered all that his youngest sent him, playing cards and drinking.

Mrs. Frederick Darling's other three sons never married, and blamed their mother for their bachelorhood. They moved on into their own lives and apartments elsewhere in the world, leaving their mother homeless. "George was always your favorite, Mother. Go live with him," they each told her coldly.

With nowhere to go but the grave, Mrs. Josephine Darling stopped by the Bakers' residence on the chance that they would know where to find her fourth son, George, and his family. Had it not been Christmas Eve that very night, George would have shut the door in his mother's face. But it was indeed that blessed night, and Mary insisted she come in and make merry on the holiday. George's mother made her peace with her son and his wife that night, and just like Grandpa Joe, Grandma Josephine met Wendy for the first time in her life. Even poorer than dirt, she was still a critical woman, and frankly informed George, "I would have thought that, being born of a beauty like Mary, she would be prettier. She is pale faced and thin lipped, nonetheless, just like her father. Let's hope the next baby takes more after its mother."

Wendy was the prettiest little girl in the world, and whatever George's mother said didn't matter, because it was Christmas Eve, the first Christmas George could provide the lifestyle he felt his wife worthy of. The Baker home, number fourteen, had become the new Darling Residence where anyone could find Mr. and Mrs. George Darling (The old Darling Home, that of Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth was sold to a business that tore it down and built a law firm.) That Christmas Eve, they had a grand feast and opened presents and exchanged gifts. The family, George, Mary with child, Wendy, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine went to church for midnight mass and sat in the second row from the front. The next day they relaxed at home, Mary and George enjoying their family, Wendy her new toys, Grandpa Joe his new model ship that would require extensive amounts of time to build, and Grandma Josephine the fact that this would be the first Christmas in fifty years without her abusive husband.

As Grandpa Joe held tiny grudges against George, never liking him, but respecting him nonetheless, Grandma Josephine felt the exact same way for Mary, only from the other side of the picture. The first resentment was that she allowed George to take her to bed without a wedding ring on her finger. She was a virgin when she married, and felt no proper young lady should even know about the act until her wedding night.

The second one was simply for Mary not marrying the bigger fish. She thought Mary foolish for settling for her fourth son. George was not a commanding man, just as Mr. Baker himself thought. George was reserved, which made his own mother think that any women of good sense would see him as a coward. George was not a professional man like his brothers; therefore he was not as successful and accomplished. The bigger fish would have been the better choice. George was Mrs. Darling's favorite son. She made him that way purposely to dissuade any woman from wanting him as a husband and for Mary not to see that made her think her daughter-in-law either blind or stupid, or maybe something else.

The third grudge was the way Mary held herself around George. He was tame and soft spoken; yet she treated him like a king and sat him upon a throne. She never demanded anything from him, and she willingly let him "violate her womanhood," as Mrs. Darling called it whenever and however many times he liked.

"Mary, you should not lay down for George that way until he has earned it." Certainly not her place to say so, but she did often. By "earning it," she meant buying Mary expensive gifts and taking her to fancy restaurants and parties, as his father once did, knowing her fourth son would never do it.

Mary scoffed at her mother-in-law's advice, and then ignored it. "I do what I do to and for George because I love him and I want to be near him." George had told Mary he would never hit her, nor drink nor gamble, and thus far, he made good on his promise. That reason alone gained him her favor in life and in their bedchamber. He was good husband and good father and an even better man in Mary's eyes. She loved him more than her own self and tried her best to give him a happy home, filled with love and joy, and she showed Mrs. Darling just that, often.

As a result, Mrs. Darling liked Mary for being a good wife to her favorite son, and for letting her take a bedroom in their home. But she did not respect her.

It was a tight fit in the new Darling Home. George and Mary kept Wendy with them in Mary's old room, Mr. Baker kept his master bedroom where he spent his married life with his wife, and the older Mrs. Darling got the guest room. Aunt Millicent was still crushed over Mary's betrayal and never came by to visit. It cost a lot of money to feed the house and provide for everyone, and just as George always had, he manipulated the numbers and came up with a plan. He dipped into their savings only when he had to, and cut meat from their diet three days a week. He watched Mary and her condition closely as the spring arrived. He felt better that she was not alone at home, having her father and his mother as company. Her father helped with housework as George released their maid to save on their budget. His mother fell into the same melancholy that Mrs. Baker had, because now she too sat in the parlor and gazed aimlessly at the portraits that hung there, doing absolutely nothing.

Wendy liked Grandpa Joe. He would tell her stories of pirates and ships and all the characters he had met while a young boy. As she grew, it was he who told her every story should have a happy ending, and "always finish off with a kiss, people like to hear about kissing." Then he would give her a peck on the cheek and send her back to her imaginary world.

Wendy did not like Grandma Josephine. She was an angry woman who never smiled. Mommy always smiled, and Daddy always smiled at Mommy and at her. Growing up, she too would hear stories from Grandma Josephine, but no happy tales. Instead they would be about a wicked witch who was a no-good thief. In the end, she would either get tossed off a cliff into hot lava or be burned at the stake, either way there was fire involved. The part that hurt Wendy the most (aside from the fact that her grandmother named the innocent Prince who was tempted to eat the apple George, and the wretched old ugly witch Mary) was that the handsome and charming Prince always returned to the kingdom and named his mother Josephine the Queen.

Even though the stories were not real, to Wendy they were. It was because of Grandma Josephine's stories as a young girl; Wendy looked to her father and made her comparison. Her father was a bank clerk, he didn't seem strong or brave or handsome. Her mother was so beautiful and young, not wicked and nasty. It made no sense to her and as her emotions developed, she wondered whatever her mother saw in a man that was always more concerned with how much something costs than with romantic ideals, such as going after something you wanted and taking it. That was the only part of the stories she agreed with, "The wicked witch wanted to steal the prince away from his kingdom, so she just did, using her dark magic to make herself seem pretty and sweet." Wendy decided if she ever had to choose between being a fairy princess living in the shadow of the queen or the wicked witch who only got to enjoy one night with the prince, at least as a child, and then later again in her life, she too would get burned at the stake in the end.


	9. Chapter 9 Mary in Her Place

Rated R: Violence & sex

My Darling Love

Chapter 9 – Mary In Her Place

"_Many commit the same crimes with a very different result._

_One bears a cross for his crime, another a crown."_

_-Decimus Junius Juvenal_

Mary gave birth on the sunniest day in May. The baby, eager to be born, gave Mary no trouble at all. She began her labor at sunset, and it went on through the night with the constant repetition of telling George, "It really doesn't hurt that bad, please stop worrying." Mary did not lie; it was quite easy and required only three good pushes to bring him out. Even the midwife who delivered him commented on his favorable attitude, as he was bathed and wrapped in a blanket, "Never before saw a baby not screaming and shouting to be put back in their mother once their naked bums hit the air."

They named their first son John, Mary's favorite, since she was quite insistent that he must be given that name. Thus, George saved his favorite, Michael, for the next son, which Mary demanded they have right away. "Well, dearest, we only just had a baby an hour ago, maybe we should wait a little before we start on the next."

John was more eager to see the world than Wendy had been. He came out the correct way and as soon as he was cleaned up, he attached to Mary's breast to have breakfast. Wendy was in awe of her new brother. Just as much as Mary had pleaded with George to have another right away, so Wendy cried and pouted for another baby as well.

In time, with the work that came with a toddler and a newborn, Mary agreed to wait, but Wendy was steadfast in her desire. She went so far as to beg her Grandpa Joe to command her father and mother make another baby. She wanted a little sister, preferably, and on the double. Her grandfather laughed wholeheartedly and told her, "Even if your mother and father were to make another baby, it would be many months before it arrived, and there is no guarantee that it would not be another boy instead of a little sister, you know."

Wendy didn't want to wait many months, and she absolutely did not want another brother, so George bought her a baby doll of her own to pretend with.

Their two children were unplanned and unexpected, "an accident" as his mother once called George. But now, to the senior Mrs. Darling, Wendy and John were "mistakes for lack of better judgment." She educated Mary in the correct way to prevent another pregnancy, "the method your friend taught you leaves too much room for error, my way is much better and my proof is simply all my sons were conceived for the deliberate purpose of being born." Mary followed her lessons to perfection, looking to her calendar and counting the days of the month from her last monthly. She informed George when they could and when they could not make love, with no exceptions. "I'm sorry, George, we will have to wait till the seventeenth of this month and not a day sooner, and only can we again maybe on the twenty seventh, but then only just once."

Impressed that she took the matter so seriously, he too kept track of nights that were "safe" and nights when "there was a chance," by marking them in his calendar at work. The nights he was certain to sleep with his pajamas on were marked off with a simple black slash, the nights were he was assured he would awake in the morning with a smile, were circled in red.

But alas, after only a few months of following the schedule which Grandma Josephine prescribed ("the nights when there is a chance of conception, you must in no way, shape or form, allow George to even touch you,") Mary and George decided on another method. Looking at the days before making love, they found those nights when there was "a chance" always outnumbered those that were "safe" by tenfold. "I have not been able to touch you in over two weeks, Mary," George wailed, "and it was three weeks before that, and now you tell me I am to wait another two weeks and a half? I'm sorry, Mary, but one time once a month is unacceptable."

Loving to take pleasure in their marriage, and not wanting to always check the calendar or stay away from each other, George would exercise restraint and remove himself from Mary before he reached climax. "We will try it my way, as my father told me long ago this is also a reliable method." This was much easier in theory than in practice, for George found it very difficult at that crucial moment when all he wanted to do was thrust into his wife harder, to gather the strength and self-control to remove himself and finish by hand. But George was a strong man and did what he had to do to continue enjoying Mary whenever he wanted. She was not without her appreciation for his hard efforts and soon she did the handy work, rubbing him to completion, as his reward.

What they did together in the privacy of their bedchamber was just that -- private. Therefore, from the moment they moved back in with Mr. Baker, they both set down one rule that would remain solid and unforgivably unbreakable throughout their entire marriage that applied to all living in their house. "No one is to ever enter into our bedchamber. When the door is shut, you must knock and wait for us to answer, and once we allow you to open the door to speak with us, you will still remain only in the entranceway and never enter. If we are not in the room, we expect the same privacy."

George never bragged to the gentlemen in the office of the lustful and sexy lover his wife was. And Mary never told even her best friend Penny that George was well endowed and had amazing stamina. Nor did they discuss their love life with each other. The silence they maintained when they were first engaged dissolved in their daily routine, but remained constant in their passion. Always affectionate to her children, Mary held her hugs and kisses for George away from prying eyes and gossip. He thought that it best, not wanting to share Mary 's ardor with anyone, not even his children. They placed a makeshift curtain in their room to separate Wendy and baby John from them, and once alone, with their children asleep, she could be his and only his and she was. And so, George never chased after Mary in the daylight or evening when the house was alive with laughter and chaos. His pursuit came in the calm of night, with shades closed and the lights off.

John Darling was like his father, not only in looks as an infant, but also in appetite, thus, making him a very hungry baby. Wendy had been content feeding from the breast for an entire year before Mary weaned her to soft foods. As unlike as the two births were, while babies, the children's differences continued. John had to be fed oatmeal and porridge to keep his hunger satisfied. Wendy was nearly one before she got her first tooth, John had four in his mouth when only six months old. Soon, he would not take Mary's breast even for comfort. Wendy took her first steps at nine months, and was impatient to run about and wreak havoc. John was more content to sit in his high chair and watch everything going on around him, usually gnawing at bread crusts and drooling. Wendy was a long, thin baby while John was short and chubby. Wendy had smiled the day she was born, happy, it seemed, that George and Mary did not leave her at the church mission. John was more serious, and held George's expression in rapt interest at the goings on in the Darling residence, watching his sister dance around the kitchen in an attempt to tease him into a smile that rarely came.

When John was a year old, George asked Mary if she wanted another baby, remembering her desire for one and feeling ready to be a father to yet another child. After dinner, while she washed the supper plates and he sat at the kitchen table reading his paper he remarked, "I have checked the finances and I am certain we could afford another. If you'd like I could stop, well, you know, dearest, tonight."

Mary nodded her head, but did not smile. She turned to him, wiping her hands on her apron and then sat down next to him, touching his arm gently. "I don't want another baby, George, two is fine." Mary always said George knew best, and in return, he felt the same about her. Although he was eager to make love to her without restraint, the way he preferred best, he believed she must have her reasons and nodded his understanding of her request. Not another word was said and he returned to his paper and her to her dishes.

Later in the evening, after they retired and lay in bed with both their children asleep in another bed next to them, he could not shake his curiosity to her reasons and so he asked her why. "There are too many people living in this house," she said. "We do not even have the luxury of our own room."

Not that they ever had when first married, but just the same, the house in which they now resided was larger, with three bedrooms. Grandpa Joe sold the property to George when he retired and sold his business as well and now it was theirs to do with as they pleased. The largest was the master bedroom; they allowed her father to stay in having spent his many years in that room as the man of the house. Theirs was half that size, Mary's old bedroom, and the guest room that George's mother stayed in was even smaller.

They of course opened their home to Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine out of the kindness of their hearts. They would not even think about asking their parents to leave and find a home elsewhere. "Really, George, where would my father go? We are his only family. Your brothers want nothing to do with your mother, so we are stuck with her as well. There just isn't anything more to think about."

But there was. They would think about the third baby they both wanted, but could not have.

Wendy, now three, and John one, played together as children of that age do. Mostly Wendy would play peek-a-boo with her baby brother. He was unimpressed with her game. He sat on a blanket in the park too stubborn or too lazy to walk. It was one or the other, neither Mary nor Wendy could figure out which one. "Maybe his legs don't work, Mommy," Wendy offered, only making Mary more concerned, causing her to hold him up by his arms and encourage him to stand, to check his ability to support his own weight. When he did, Mary would let go, and John, content to sit, dropped to his bum and stayed there.

When Wendy was tired of trying to get her staid brother to smile and giggle, she would beg Mary to tell her stories. "There once was prince who fell in love with a beautiful maiden in the highest tower of a castle," Mary would begin.

"Give them names, Mommy," Wendy would demand, for Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine would always give their characters names and therefore Mary did as well. "The prince was named Michael and the maiden's name was Katherine. And every day, Michael would go see Katherine in the tower." Mary's stories always had a happy ending and hers, too, ended with a kiss, "He kissed the princess and broke the spell of the evil fairy." And just to make sure that nothing would happen after they sailed into the sunset, Mary ended them with, "And they all lived happily ever after."

One day in particular, they were not alone in the park. With them came Penny and her daughter Margaret, who played with Wendy while John napped. Penny was expecting again, and due in August. Since she had always been Mary's best friend and helped her through her most desperate times, and was now in need herself, Mary hoarded the grocery money George gave her and slipped it to Penny.

"Mary, you shouldn't, if George found out, he would angry with you."

Mary insisted, reassuring Penny, "George will never know, it's only a few pennies here and there and we won't even miss it." But George did miss it, as he checked her receipts and the books of the house and found a considerable amount amiss. A week later, fearing they'd been robbed, but with enough sense to ask his wife before calling the constable, George confronted Mary.

"Penny and her husband are having trouble financially, and since they were always so compassionate where we were concerned, I didn't see the harm in helping them out." George saw the harm. He saw Penny and her husband taking food from his table and clothes from his children's backs. More troubling than that, he saw his wife, his darling love, a thief. Instead of asking his opinion on the matter, and removing money from their savings with his permission, she went behind his back and stole grocery funds. She deliberately attempted to fudge the books to hide her "crime" and then lied about the cost of milk and bread.

George was infuriated and told her so, "Mary, how could you do such a thing? You are not to give Penny any more money without asking first." George felt that in order to prove how serious his words were, something needed to be done, but being a kind soul was unsure of how to handle such a situation. The children were always well behaved, so he never had to discipline them. He would if he had to, but cringed at the thought of spanking their little bottoms. He was sure of one thing, Mary needed to be punished. Unable to concoct a better plan of action, he sent her to their room without supper.

It was more a punishment for him than his wife, for he now had to feed the children, bath the children and put them to bed. His relaxing time with the paper at the kitchen table was replaced with dirty dinner dishes in the sink that needed washing. As he worked with Mary's apron on and his sleeves rolled up, his mother, Grandma Josephine (or 'Mrs. Darling,' as she made Mary call her) took his place at the table. George mumbled under his breath, "I simply cannot believe she would do a thing like that, and to think I wouldn't discover her deception..."

His mother listened and nodded her head in silence before offering her opinion on the matter. "Hit her, George," was all she said.

"I beg your pardon?" George turned on his heel to face his mother.

"Mary's problem is that you have never put her in her place. You must be respected in your own home. Your children do not fear you, they don't even like you. Mary controls you with all the moaning and groaning you do in your bed at night when you think no one can hear you and everyone is asleep. You need to put her in her place, slap her when she deserves it, George, that is your right as her husband and provider."

His eyes were wide and full of disbelief. "I will do no such thing!" he shouted, before fixing his apron and returning to his dishes.

"Everyone feared your father, everyone gave him respect. He demanded it, from his children and me, especially. Once in a while, I would forget my place in his house and he would give me a good smack to remind me. George, women need to be reminded of their place. If you hit Mary, she will never steal from you again. She will be subservient and will teach your children to do the same. She cares not for your orders, she lets the children run wild like animals and fills their heads with stories of adventures and magic. They must be raised properly, and until you show Mary who is boss, that will never happen. I was stubborn and thick headed, your father had to hit me plenty of times before I learned. Mary seems more willing to make you happy. I'm sure you'd only have to hit her once -- no, once and she'll forget. Twice, hit her twice and she'll learn, and if you do it hard enough, that will be the only time you have to do it."

He listened to his mother, as he always did, even if he acted like the words bounced off his back. He went to bed without saying a word to Mary, who again apologized for her misdeeds. "George, I swear, I had only the best intentions in heart.

He was off to work the next day without a word.

Mary took Wendy and John to the park the next day as well. It was an overcast day. Penny and her husband were short on their rent, even after Mary gave them a considerable amount to help make ends meet. At lunchtime, she stopped home and took a few cents from the children's piggy bank, not enough, but some to get her best friend a little closer to her arrears.

Grandma Josephine saw her open the bank and remove a few coins, and she reported this to George the moment he walked in the door from work. "You have a common criminal living in your house, my son, your wife. She sneaked in when she thought no one was home and tiptoed up the stairs into your room and emptied the children's piggy bank, looking about just to make sure she wouldn't be caught." Mary had not sneaked into her house; as a matter of fact, she announced she had come home, "I'm home for just a minute, I need to get something from my room." She had strolled up the stairs to her room, and left the door open, borrowing six tuppences from her children in plain sight that she would put back later when George gave Mary her own private weekly allowance for her "womanly things." Those were the details that Mrs. Darling left out.

Mary and the children walked quickly back home in the pouring rain after being out all day. Wendy danced about completely wet. John had finally taken his first steps that very day and was quite ambitious, attempting to chase after Wendy as she went. George watched from the window, while they ran up the walk drenched to the bone in the July shower.

Mary entered behind the children, "Father, could you take the children upstairs to change clothes while I begin supper?" The children ascended the stairs, being followed by Grandpa Joe, and were soon out of sight. Mary removed her cloak and hat and smiled lovingly at George, "I'm sorry we are so late, we stopped by the cemetery to leave flowers at my mother's grave and then the rains came. I'll have dinner on the table by the time--"

Without warning, still in mid-sentence, as she was about to head to the kitchen to make his supper, George raised his hand to her and slapped her across the face. Shocked and disoriented by the unexpected attack and jolt of pain, she ran to him, her husband, for protection. Mary hadn't been hit since she came home pregnant and unwed after running away from her marriage to the bigger fish. Her enraged father never even considered hitting her until that moment, he himself stunned at the time by her admissions. But George's slap was premeditated, he planned to hit her from the moment his mother told him of her repeated thievery. "Stealing from the children!" he shouted and again his hand came down on her. Stunned and unsettled that it was her husband whose hand met her cheek in anger -- twice -- after swearing to her he never would, she got ill on the rug. George followed suit, and threw up on himself.

Before George could mutter another word or accusation, Mary fled up the stairs. She pushed her father out of the way and ran into her room. Grandpa Joe was dumbfounded at her unintentional assault and called after her, "Mary Elizabeth?" He had been doing as he was asked and removed the children's rain soaked clothes. Attempting to change John's diaper, stripping the infant completely naked, he realized he had no idea how refasten him in a diaper. Thus, he left the children to fetch their mother for assistance as Mary ran into him head on almost knocking him to the ground. Mary entered the room to find John running about peeing all over the floor with Wendy chasing after him wearing only her bloomers, instructing him to use the chamber pot instead the floor for his toilet. Mary slammed the door shut, scaring the children to hysterical tears at her expression, and locked herself and the children inside.

"Now she knows her place in your house," Grandma Josephine said, and patted George on the back as he knelt down to catch his breath, hearing the frightened crying of his children upstairs. He had thought that beating Mary would make him feel powerful, mighty. He could not have been more wrong. He slowly ascended the staircase to their room and gently tapped on the door.

No one answered, for Mary clutched her two children in her arms and covered their mouths with her hands. "Go away," she whispered loud enough to for him to hear and George slumped against the door, staying there all night.

In the morning, he went to work reeking of vomit. He had not been able to get fresh clothes, and the looks of disgust from his co-workers as they glared at his stench was the beginning of his long and lengthy punishment, punishment for hurting Mary, the woman that God had entrusted to him, to be his wife and the mother of his children.

With George gone from the house, Mary dressed herself and the children and left the house without leaving a note to their whereabouts. She didn't want Wendy to be afraid, so she told her they were playing a game of hide-and-go-seek and daddy was "it." They spent the morning and afternoon walking the streets and as the evening came they went to visit with Penny and her family. They ate supper there, and Wendy and John were put to bed alongside their friend, Margaret, Penny's daughter.

Grandpa Joe was forced to spend his entire day alone with the woman he despised most in the world, Grandma Josephine. "Why would you tell your son to hit my daughter? And don't lie and say it's because Mary deserved it."

Mrs. Darling was busy as she always was, doing nothing, and only retorted, "I have my reasons. George is my favorite son and I will not have him be stuck with a witch for a wife. If he had any good sense in his head, he would throw her and you out. Now that I think about it, the streets are where you both belong. Don't speak to me again Joseph, I am not your wife!"

Grandpa Joe was thankful for that, and for now, he said nothing further.

Penny and Mary stayed up late into the evening chatting about nonsense to keep Mary's mind away from the bruise that had developed on her cheek. With her husband out for the night down at the pub, and the children fast asleep, Penny and Mary talked more intimately about what had transpired. "He hit me, Penny. Twice.," was all Mary could manage.

To that all Penny could offer was, "I know he didn't mean to. George would never mean to hurt you. I bet you my bloomers it was his awful mother."

But he had meant it, and Mary knew it, and as much as she was suffering, her George, alone at home with his mother (who was finally cheerful) and his father-in-law (who was appalled at George's behavior) suffered too. He came home from work to find no supper, no children laughing and no Mary. He watched from the window as he had the day before, waiting to see them walking up the street to their house. It was well past midnight, and he still held within him the nervous anticipation that at any moment, he would see Wendy skipping towards him with his lovely and beautiful wife, carrying their son, following closely after.

"John will be asleep by now, so Mary will have to carry him. That's why they are so late," George explained to Grandpa Joe as he sat in his favorite chair and lit his pipe.

"They will not be home tonight, George. Probably at Penny's," Grandpa Joe offered, watching his son-in-law staring intently out the window into the darkness outside.

George was steadfast and responded, "No, they are coming. It will be any minute now." George checked his pocket watch against the clock on the wall, and returned his eyes to the street outside, empty of his wife and children. "Wendy is probably sleeping, too, so Mary will have to carry both children. She's probably resting just up the block. I should go and help her, yes, I'll help her." George went to the coat rack and put on his coat and hat.

Grandpa Joe did not move from his seat only calling after George to get his attention. "She is not coming home tonight, George. Don't waste your time or strength wandering the streets of London looking for her."

George did his best to hide his tears and he choked on his words as he opened the front door. "No, she is coming. She took her bag with her, and that and the two children is a lot to carry. I must go find her and help her." Mary had not taken her dainty purse; she took a large carpetbag, packing it with a week's worth of clothes for her and the children.

George saw the empty drawers and hangers when he changed before dinner. He knew as well as Grandpa Joe that Mary wasn't coming home that night. It was the fear that she would never come home any night after that which sent him toward the street, intent on searching for her.

Just as he made his way out the door, Grandpa Joe spoke, "You know, George, I used to hit Mary's mother." George froze in his tracks and listened, too humiliated with his own behavior to face her father.

"From the moment I met Elizabeth, to the time we were first married and even when Mary was a baby, my wife was full of life. Everything made her giggle and she found splendor and magic in all things. Her only flaw was, at least in my eyes, she was very outspoken, and would tell me she was my equal and that marriage was a partnership. I see now that she was right, but at the time... I made the money and paid the bills and put food on the table, and I thought the only thing she had to do was sit back and reap the benefits of my labor. So every once in a while, 'to put her in her place' as your mother called it, I would hit her and yell at her. I'd call her names and degrade her and then I would hit her to teach her I was better then she was. I would tell her I was more valuable in life than she could ever be. Oh, the things I said and did to that poor woman, God forgive me, I didn't mean any of it. All too soon all that life, and all the smiles and the splendor and magic of everything were drained from her, and she became the silent statue that only spoke when spoken to. And at the times when I needed her guidance the most, the times when I wanted her to be outspoken and tell me I was wrong, she left me to my own bad judgment without a fight, for the fear of my fist and harsh tongue made her that way."

Now Grandpa Joe got up and walked over to his son-in-law that he never liked but respected. "Mrs. Baker liked you, George, because she knew you would not treat Mary the way I treated her. She saw all that she was when she was her age in her daughter. But instead of marrying someone like her father, Mary chose someone like you. If she still had a voice, George, Mrs. Baker would have defended Mary from me, but she didn't, and you know what happened next. Don't hit Mary, George; don't rob her of that life, that splendor, that magic. Don't take from her the laughter and the love she has for you. Don't make her hold her tongue for fear of a reprimand, of your hand. Let your hands be a place of love for Mary. You are stronger than her in body, you don't need to prove that to her or yourself. Don't change the silence that you have with one another from adoration to apprehension and dread. You are a completely different person to her now, but only for today. Go to her tomorrow, bring her home, bring your children home, and spend the rest of your life proving to her that yesterday was the only day in her life that you would ever do anything to intentionally steal from her the dreams she hides within her heart."

George went to bed without taking to the streets. He slept on the cold floor with only one pillow and no blankets. He held the one pillow to his chest and pretended it was Mary in his arms. Mary, on a sofa on the other side of the city, slept clutching her pillow too, dreaming it was George. Wendy dreamed about where they would hide from daddy next, John dreamed of hot oatmeal and fresh juice. Grandpa Joe said a prayer that Mary would forgive George and come home. And Grandma Josephine smiled in her slumber feeling Mary finally got what she deserved for stealing her fourth son, her personal favorite, like the thief she was.


	10. Chapter 10 Punishment of the Faux Pas

Rated R – Sexual Content

My Darling Love

Chapter 10 – Punishment of the Faux Pas

_"Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction."_

_-Antoine de Saint-Exupery_

Luckily for George, tomorrow was Saturday, and as soon as the dawn met the horizon he was dressed and left the house. He hailed a cab and took it to Penny's. Seeing the house still dark inside, he peeped through the window. Unluckily, a constable was on patrol and saw him peering in. Thinking he was a burglar -- or worse, a peeping Tom -- he apprehended him, quite loudly, not only waking the neighbors but also Mary, asleep on the sofa just inside the front window. She ran outside in her nightgown and robe without her slippers, and seeing her husband detained, went to his rescue. "He is my husband. I asked him to stop by first thing in the morning and pick up me and our children," she dissembled as she held tightly to George's waist. Seeing the welt on her cheek and the shame in her husband's face (George himself now seeing it for the first time), the policeman released him without another word.

As he was set free, Mary still clutching to him tightly, she kissed him repeatedly, knocking his glasses askew. Surprised by her gesture (and relieved she was not frightened of him), he embraced her and kissed her back just as vigorously. They swore their mutual regret on their lives and the lives of their children, and that whatever happened would never happen again. "Should you forgive my actions against you this easily, Mary? Should I not be punished more?" George asked her as she still showered kisses now not only on his lips but also his on face and neck.

"I love you George, I love you so much, if you say it will never happen again, I will believe you," she replied breathlessly.

"It will **_never_ **happen again Mary."

She believed him. "Are you still angry with me? Please don't be angry, George," she pleaded. He, of course, was not angry, only relieved, and they continued to bombard each other with affection in public, with all the neighbors watching.

Mary and George packed the children, still asleep, and their things and carried them home. Once safely tucked in their beds, the couple went to the kitchen and talked over their quarrel, reaching the permanent and non-negotiable conditions that: George would never again strike Mary for any reason, and Mary would never make a decision without discussing it first with George.

"We should be partners," George declared, "equals in our marriage. I will always talk over everything with you before I make a decision, because I value your opinion and your good judgment. All I ask is for the same consideration. When you do something like steal money from the household expenses, it makes me feel like you are devious, and don't respect me. It makes me think you are doing other things behind my back. It makes me wary that there are other deceptions I am unaware of. I don't want to be suspicious of my own wife on such matters, and I don't feel as though I should have to strike you to teach you to respect me. My father struck my mother on many occasions, and it did not teach her respect. It merely taught her to be wilier in her misdeeds. There is no need to hide anything from me. If you just told me what troubles Penny was having, I might be able to help more than just throwing money at her," George told Mary over his tea.

"I do respect you, George, and there is nothing else I am doing behind your back. But I won't respect you if you ever hit me again. I never thought of us as partners and equals, but to know you think of us that way, well, there are just no words to describe how happy that makes me. I don't want you to be suspicious of me, and the last thing I want is to lose your trust. I didn't ask for the money because I didn't want to bother you about it, and I didn't think you would mind. But you are correct; I should have spoken with you first. As I think on it now, I can't even think of a good reason for hiding it from you, except that Penny and her husband are not getting along, as they should. I was worried that you might loan money to him, and he would use it for other things such as gambling and drinking as opposed to where it needs to go. Penny is having a very hard time right now; I just wanted to ease her suffering a little. I am sorry, it will never happen again, please forgive me."

Mary gazed at George over her tea. She was sorry, and, indeed, it never did happen again. George forgave her. From that moment on, whenever the thought of hoarding money away from George came back into mind, Mary would get sick to her stomach.

"I love you, Mary, more than myself, more than our children. Everything I do is for you. I am sorry that I hit you. That was bad advice from my mother, and I should have known better. I promise it will never happen again. You must please forgive me." He was sorry and she forgave him. From that moment on, whenever the thought of Mary and the children not spending a night at home safely in their beds where they should be, George would feel ill.

They sealed their sacred vows quickly on the sofa in their formal parlor before the house awoke. Their passion exchanged with both still dressed in their clothes, unfastened zipper and undergarments shifted out of way was hidden by Mary sitting with her legs spread and George moving quickly between them whispering, "Do you think its all right if I just..." He did anyway, and it was all right for Mary's monthly began that afternoon.

When Grandma Josephine descended the stairs to breakfast, Mary's hair, mussed and untidy, and George's pants and shirt, wrinkled and disheveled, were the only proof she needed that her son and his wife had made up. The smile on George's face and the grin on Mary's as they gazed at one another over eggs and bacon were the evidence Grandpa Joe wanted to see. So there it was. "To be young lovers in love..." Grandpa Joe said to Mrs. Darling as her expression of victory faded to a grimace of defeat.

The children were sad that the game "hide and go seek" was over, but were happy again when Mary told them she would play it with them later. On Sunday, the family went to church. There, just to make sure it never happened again and that God forgave their sins as well, both George and Mary went to confession and did their penance. With the events of the day behind them, they forgave each other, but never forgot. They kept it in mind to remember how easy it was to hurt the other.

Grandpa Joe forgave George and began to like him, not only respect him. He watched how uncomfortable George was around the children when they played in their imaginary world and it made him chuckle. "Something about a man that age that makes it impossible to relate to those innocent creatures," he would tell his daughter. "Had the same problem myself with you."

Grandma Josephine held her tongue and forgave no one, especially Mary.

By September, Mary's best friend Penny was two weeks overdue and bedridden. When her labor finally began, it was worse than the time Mary had Wendy. In the middle of the night, Penny's husband came calling at the Darling Residence and woke the house asking for Mary to help. "She's been asking for you Mary, actually, she's been begging," he told her as George helped her with her coat and hat. "She's doing real bad, never seen nothing before it in my life, and I'm the oldest of seven."

Her husband did not exaggerate; Penny was doing very poorly; she was pale and could not keep her breath. The pain of contractions that normally subsided and gave a moment's rest was constant. She screamed in agony, now running a dangerously high fever, sweating so profusely she soaked the bed sheets. Mary sat with her all night and into the morning, cooling her best friend with damp cloth, and praying for God's mercy on her rosary.

George dropped the children to her on his way to work and they were told by their father with a finger to each child's nose to "sit quietly with Margaret, don't make even peep not even to call for your mother." All day. A very difficult request for a three-year-old and one-year-old to comprehend, but they tried their best.

They sat on the sofa with Penny's daughter and listened to the moaning and crying out in the other room. The midwife arrived, and Mary paid her in advance, as Penny's debts were well known around the seedy section of London, and the midwife would not deliver the baby without being paid first. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Darling, I will extend that woman no credit, her husband hasn't even paid me for the last baby of hers I delivered."

Mary sent for Grandpa Joe, who came later in the morning to help with the children. She sent word to George, and he removed the funds from their savings, dispatching with it a note to Mary telling her how much he loved her and hoped her friend was well.

But in spite of Mary's prayers and tender ministrations, Penny began bleeding, and by nightfall there was nothing that could be done for her or her baby. She died that night with her baby still inside of her. The undertaker that George had worked for when he and Mary were first married came and removed the body. "She'll be buried in potter's field if no one can pay the bill. I'm sorry, Mrs. Darling," he said holding his hat as his assistant carried Penny out wrapped in the sheet she died in.

Mary sat alone in Penny's room for quite some time before she sent for anyone. The bed where Penny died was the bed where Mary and George had made Wendy. The children cried on the other side of the door, "Mommy we're hungry, John needs his nappy changed and Grandpa Joe doesn't know how, he smells awful! Mommy, please come out, we're lonely without you!"

Mary regained her composure, making supper for Penny's husband, their child and her children. She wrote George a note, "Please, George, I need you to do this for me, she deserves better than potter's field and her husband does not have the money." Mary dispatched it home with her father, and then did the dinner dishes and straightened the house while the children played. Penny's husband sat with a lost expression, holding his head in his hands. He was not there when she passed, and he never got to say good-bye.

Grandpa Joe returned later to collect the children and bring them home, "George said you should stay the night for Margaret. He already went to the Undertaker to pay the bill, so Penny can have a proper burial. You didn't even have to ask, Mary Elizabeth." Grandpa Joe now loved George and respected him. Mary spent the night in bed, caring for Margaret who cried for her mommy and Penny's husband spent the night at the pub.

In the early hours of the morning, Penny's husband came home. He was a tall, handsome man with long blonde hair, straight as an arrow. Had he come from a rich family, he would not have ended up working with his bare hands doing manual labor. Unlike George in every way, he had calluses on his hands and always stank of tobacco from the cigars he smoked. "We don't have any money to pay the bills, but he has enough money to always have his cigars and his drink," Penny had complained frequently.

Her husband was a selfish man, and this morning, he reeked of whiskey from drinking away his misery all night long. "Just make sure you're never alone with him, Mary," Penny had told her one afternoon, watching the children playing. "He's a whoremonger, always with the tramps down at the pub. I wouldn't put it past him to try something on you, and if anything ever happened to you because of him I would never forgive myself." Mary had never told a soul, but Penny's husband had always leered at her as inappropriate fantasies of his wife's best friend ran through his mind. Penny knew the truth of it, and gave her warning. George never looked at Mary that way, and she was thankful for that. Mary got up as he came in and went to the kitchen to brew coffee and make him something to eat to soak up the liquor that filled his stomach, feeling it her final duty to the her best friend's husband before departing.

Penny's husband's name was James, and because of what was about to happen to her, from that moment on Mary would never like that name on a man. As she stood at the stove, he slowly came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I knew George in school. All the other boys used to make fun of him because he had never been with a girl. He was always too shy to talk to girls, his mother used to come and pick him up, making him hold her hand as they walked home, momma's boy that I gather he still is. I remember your first time with him in my bed. I listened to him plow into you. It was probably the first time for him too, I'm sure, from the sound of it. Him grunting like a filthy pig, moving on top of you like you were just a hole in the mattress. It was over quickly too if I remember correctly, made Penny and me laugh in hysterics. It'd been cheaper for him just to spend some of that hard earned cash he's always saving and get himself a nice little whore, they come young and cheap nowadays. That way he could have one off finally and been done with it. But I guess that's not what you wanted, maybe you're smarter than everyone gives you credit for Mary. Making a baby to tie a man down, I hear you're very good at that," he whispered in her ear.

Mary had always thought him good-looking, but knew he was no gentleman. She listened to his speech, holding her eyes dead centered in front of her without giving a retort. She thought that best, better to let him have his say, then egg him on with her own insults, she wished at that very moment to cast. She loved Penny like a sister, and for that reason alone, she held her tongue. Mary pushed his hands away and stepped aside to disallow his further exchange, keeping her silence. But he was persistent, and soon turned her to face him, rather harshly by grabbing her by the shoulders.

"George is a fool, I bet you he just lifts your leg while you're asleep and does his business, apologizing in the morning for disturbing your slumber, all polite and proper. 'Sorry dearest Mary, but it is my right at your husband and your duty as my wife, but worry not for it is only once a month,'" said James, mocking George's voice, a horrible impression Mary did not find the least bit humorous.

No one knew what George and Mary did in their bed because it was their business, and no, George never took Mary while she was asleep, but she did not feel the need to tell Penny's husband that. So again she pried herself from his grip and began savaging the cupboards for bread. "Does George ever give you pleasure, Mary?" A most tasteless and unbecoming question from a distraught husband whose wife had only passed a few hours before, Mary remained silent.

"You don't even know what I mean, do you? Poor girl. You've got two babies by him so I know he sure does. Does he grunt like the dirty pig he is the whole time or just when he dumps himself inside of you?" He sneered as he grabbed the can Mary was stretching on her tiptoes for.

"What a waste of a beautiful woman. You know, if you were my wife, you'd be begging me for it, just like Penny. Sometimes I had to beat her off of me with a stick." He pulled up a chair at his table and began wailing at her loss. He was drunk and Mary knew that. He was in a foul manner and impolite to her, and she knew it. He had an ulterior motive that Mary would have been blind not to see. She had her vision and her senses, and so she leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. "You want to have a go at me then?" Mary asked. It was a peculiar voice, neither James nor George, nor even Grandpa Joe had ever heard her use before.

"I knew you were a wanting whore Mary, and now you are finally get to what you know you've always been after..."

James stood and turned to Mary, moving her around quickly, lifting her to the table. He slobbered at her neck moving his face against hers in an attempt to reach the kiss she had in the right hand corner of her mouth that belonged to George. He held her arms tightly and she was fragile in that way, not wanting him to break her in two as he threatened, "I can do this easy, Mary, or I can do this hard, I think you'll like it hard once its inside, but will prefer it easy before I get there, now let me taste your mouth just once before I do any damage that your husband might see." Mary released a kiss, not the one George put there but another she held in reserve for the bigger fish that no one knew of.

He rudely fondled her breasts through her night robe and began to force her down on her back. "I going to teach you how to come, Mary, and you're going to love it, you'll be back the minute George trots off to work in the morning pleading with me to give you your next lesson." He already had his pants down and certain private parts she did not want to see exposed. Holding both her hands above her head, he yanked her robe open and ripped the delicate top of her nightgown straight down.

The last thing protecting her womanhood was her full undergarment, which he was having quite a lot of trouble removing with only one free hand. Mary was naïve in certain matters but experienced in others, and now that she was a married women with two children, she knew what came next. George had always been the only one and she was intent on keeping it that way. She freed a hand and grabbed the pewter mug she had poured his coffee in and thumped him in the head with it as hard as she could.

The first hit stunned him, the second and third left him unconscious, the fourth and fifth were his punishment for truly being the foul creature Penny warned he was, the sixth was for Penny and the hell he kept her trapped in from the moment they met, the seventh for his daughter Margaret, the eighth for George, who to Mary, was the finest lover in all of London, and remaining two, totaling ten were for good measure. And that is exactly what she yelled at him as she beat him about the head in that same mysteriously sinister voice she had tempted him with. He fell from her and off the table to the floor below, a bloody, bludgeoned mess.

Mary never dressed so fast in her life, nor had she ever dressed a child so quickly either. She took his child, Margaret, from his house, still groggy from being awoken by Mary, pulling a shirt clumsily over her head and ran all the way home.

George was just leaving for work when she arrived, and not having checked her reflection in the mirror, she had missed the first thing he noticed. On her neck, was a strange bruise that was reddish purple and circular. He moved her hair from off her shoulder and touched it with interest. Mary shook her head when she told him she was allergic to something she ate, leaving him with a puzzled look of non-belief. To make matters worse, as George went to kiss her, to retrieve his kiss, he smelled the whiskey and tobacco on her. He moved in to brush his lips to hers but withdrew before touching her awaiting mouth without saying a word, walking out from the house still holding a bewildered expression. Mary called after him with Penny's child still cradled in her arms, but he just kept his pace as if he didn't hear her.

Mary left the children to play after serving them breakfast in the care of her father and went upstairs to the privacy of the washroom and bathed. She scrubbed every part of her body till her skin burned, and scoured the parts Penny's husband had touched twice as much. "Love bite," Penny called them when Mary inquired after the odd mark left on her neck. "James is famous for them, that's how I know when I go to the pub to pay his tab how many of the girls he's been at."

Mary had been jealous that George never branded her that way, but she did describe to him in great detail what they looked like and how they were received. George was horrified when he heard, as was Mary, who finally had one on her neck. She fixed her hair to cover it, and dressed in another outfit, scrubbing her nightgown and robe on the washboard till she reduced the delicate material to tatters. It was already ruined before she submerged it in boiling water, but she needed to cleanse it just the same. When she was done and it was unrecognizable as something one would sleep in, she threw it in the fireplace and watched it burn to ash.

George returned in the evening with the same blank expression he had left with. He sat and ate supper without saying a word, looking only at his plate. Instead of reading the paper in the kitchen while Mary did the dishes, he sat in the parlor with his mother and her father. She bathed the children and put them to sleep, and by the time she descended the stairs to explain what had happened, he had already retired to their bed.

Back up the stairs she went to him, and nudged him until he stirred. He seemed oblivious to what she meant when she asked if he were angry. "I'm not angry with you Mary, I am just tired from a long day." She gave him the intimate details of what happened that morning with Penny's husband and did not lie. He watched her without his spectacles on, nodding and looking from side to side with no noticeable concern or reaction. When she had finished her story, he asked her if she was done, and turned over and returned to slumber without a word.

Mary sat on the edge of the bed and watched George lying with his eyes closed, comfortable on his pillow, under the blankets. With his back turned, he asked her to turn off the light, "and please wind my pocket watch so it keeps correct time in the morning." She did, and still stayed where she sat, staring at him. Incomprehensibly, George began to snore, so Mary rose up and left the room.

She went downstairs to the parlor and sat in her father's favorite chair and wept. She cried for Penny and her child Margaret, just still an infant now left without her mother's protection. She cried for the newborn that never saw daylight. She cried for herself for being jealous of the life she thought her friend had. She cried for the kiss that was stolen, that she allowed to be thieved. She cried for George, who even though put on the greatest performance of a man asleep, she knew was still awake wiping tears on his pajama sleeve.

Mary never slept a wink that night, and neither did George. He wasn't upset with Mary but at himself for allowing his wife to be put in that most unfortunate situation. Penny had warned him, too: "George, just be careful with having Mary stop in when I am not there. I know this sounds frightful, and God forgive me for speaking ill of my husband, but I don't trust James alone with her, especially when he's been drinking." He believed her when she said nothing had happened, he believed her when she said she defended herself and he believed her when she told him that the kiss he left everyday on the right-hand corner of her mouth just for him was still there.

What George could not believe was the lack of courage he found within himself to walk up to Penny's husband and punch him in the jaw. He thought about it all day at work. Every time he gathered the nerve to do it, someone left something on his desk that "is a matter that requires your immediate attention." George was up for a promotion and knew what the extra pay would mean for his family. He knew the cost of a black eye that Penny's husband, a larger and stronger man especially one drunk, grief stricken, and already hostile after being attacked by a woman could inflict.

His two choices were: the new baby he wanted with Mary or an abrasion that would cost him a better position at the bank. He chose the baby, and the felt the coward and believed, far worse, Mary felt him the same.

In the morning, the bell to the Darling residence rang, and George answered. It was Penny's husband, and aside from the bruises he had on his face and a considerable amount of blood dried in his dirty hair, he was packed and ready to retrieve his child and drop her at his sister's. "I have an opportunity to be a crewman on a ship," he explained to George. This, after shaking George's hand and saying sorry for being rude and impolite to his wife. "I was drunk, George, and I said some things to Mary that may have offended her. I was surprised to find myself on the floor of my kitchen beaten with a pewter mug, so I guess I did a little more than offend her. I offer you a gentleman's apology."

George offered to keep his child there, actually, Mary begged for it, but Penny's husband would not hear of it, "You and Mary have done enough and I'm sure you'll be wanting more babies of your own."

Margaret was not happy to go, and cried when her father told her to say "good-bye." Mary hugged the child, "Don't fret, Margaret, I will stop in and visit with you often," and nodded to her father, inquiring of Penny's funeral mass that George had generously paid for.

"My ship leaves in only an hour. I'll just have enough time to drop the girl off and make it to the port. Margaret won't remember her mother when she gets older. Anyway, me and God in the same house is not my idea of a pleasurable afternoon."

He winked to Mary, thereby giving George one more insult, and one more opportunity to knock his lights outs. Still, George refrained, acting as if he did not see the lewd grin James taunted his wife with. Instead, George slammed the door in his face, hurting Margaret's feelings more than her reprobate father's.

Mary and George went to Penny's funeral alone, and left the children with Grandpa Joe. George may not have been strong enough to beat up Penny's husband, but he was strong enough to support his wife when her knees went weak as her best friend was lowered into the ground. He took her to a quiet restaurant in London afterwards, and then for a moonlight walk in the park where they first kissed.

They returned home. George bathed the children and put them to bed. "I'll take care of the children tonight Mary, you just relax."

Mary went to their room and sat by the window, remembering all the good times she had with Penny from when they first met as children. Penny taught her how to cook and clean, do grocery shopping; mend George's socks and the children's clothes. She told her what it was to be a woman, and was her most trusted confident, sharing secrets with her not even George knew. And now, Penny was gone, and there was no one else that Mary knew as best friend.

Through her grief, she listened to George entertain the children in the bath. They splashed their father, soaking him, laughing and giggling as in return he dunked them under the soap bubbles. Mary sat and watched as George had a difficult time getting the children to sleep. He didn't know any stories, and so Wendy had to teach him. Mary gazed at the children in awe as they guided their father through a story about pirates and a fair maiden stranded on a deserted island rescued by the pirate captain. With the children drifting off to their dreams, George and Mary went downstairs to the kitchen and sat at the table and held hands until Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine retired to their rooms and the house was silent.

George looked at Mary and the right hand corner of her mouth where his kiss was stored for times like these when he needed it. He kissed her, and then kissed her again. George was strong enough to carry her upstairs to their bedroom. He consoled her loss and made love to her all night long. Penny's husband was incorrect in his assumption, George always gave Mary her pleasure. Her beauty and body were not wasted, but enjoyed and filled with life, as it should be. He left his seed in her over and over again that night without thinking of it even once, and as they slept, another baby came to be in her womb and waited to bloom.


	11. Chapter 11 The Cowardly King

My Darling Love

Chapter 11 – The Cowardly King

"_The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother."_

_-Theodore M. Hesburgh_

Mary was so busy with two toddlers running around, wreaking havoc, knocking some things over and breaking others, she never noticed that her first monthly in October went missing. When the children hid George's glasses and played a game where they would not speak to anyone but each other, Mary was too busy lifting sofa cushions and searching through drawers and closets to look for her monthly in November that was just as lost as his spectacles. By the time December rolled in, she was more concerned with counting the days until Christmas with so much left to do, than counting the days since her last courses. It was not Mary that noticed, but George. It was Christmas morning, and she could not stomach the smell of the delightful dinner on which she was already hard at work.

"We've been careful in that way, haven't we?" he asked, as she held her apron to her mouth and stepped away from her potatoes on the stove. George had noticed the mild slope developing on Mary's normally flat abdomen only a week earlier, but did not want to speak of it, fearing he would insult her. 'Anyway,' he thought, 'we've been careful since that one specific night.' But alas, together, they looked up, to where their bedroom was. George realized (remembering that wonderful night when they made love several times without concern) that he could never say that any of their children were intentionally conceived.

Mary refused to admit she was with child, even though she knew it long before that moment. She scoffed at George, told him he was imaging things, and went back to cooking. By the New Year, she had counted the months, but still denied that anything bloomed in her belly. When her dresses did not fasten, she held them closed with a safety pin, as she had when hiding Wendy. "Maybe you should freshen up the maternity dresses in the attic," George suggested.

Mary quickly responded, "It's just extra weight from the holidays. In a few weeks I will lose it. I think it's rude and very impolite to call me fat, George."

In spite of her protests, she grew bigger in the waist as the weeks passed. The movements from within were explained away as stomach indigestion, "My mother once told me if you swallow a lemon seed a whole tree will grow out from your stomach, and that is what is happening, George, I'm sprouting a lemon tree."

Comments such as this would leave her husband with a curious expression. "There is something not right with Mary," George told her father as he too looked on with a strange face.

Soon enough, George could take her denial no longer, and bluntly told her, "Mary, we are going to have another baby. You must take better care of yourself and stop this nonsense at once." Mary never raised her voice, but on this occasion, she did, and demanded that George sleep on the sofa.

When she was carrying Wendy and John, Mary and George made love up to the night before she delivered. With this secret baby hidden in her swollen belly, she would not allow George to touch her and accused him of trying to inflict another child upon her. "No George, absolutely not, you are not allowed to touch me. Get away, I don't want you anywhere near me. This is all part of your plan to get me in that way again, after I specifically told you I did not want another baby. If you cannot control yourself, I will call the constable and have you arrested!"

The more he pleaded for release of his manly urges with her, the more she threatened him with arrest. "Mary, I am your husband, no officer of the law will take me to prison for wanting to make love to my wife."

Mary always retorted with, "Try me, George."

Poor George spent more time in the washroom alone than in his bed. He was at a loss for what to do, as was Wendy. Her mother now refused to carry her around as she had before. "No, Wendy, you are a big girl now, and big girls will walk on their own two feet and not be cared by their mothers." John suffered also, as Mary now treated him as if he were a newborn.

Grandpa Joe sat in his favorite chair puffing on his pipe trying to sort out all the chaos around him, finally coming to one unavoidable conclusion: Grandma Josephine had to go. He was the one who listened to the women after George left for work, her mother-in-law constantly criticizing Mary's every move.

"You are such a bad cook, Mary, whatever you make it always tastes the same... You are not cleaning the floor properly, Mary, you must get down on your hands and knees and scrub... You dote on Wendy too much, and carry her around all the time. You will spoil her legs and when she gets older, she will be unable to walk... John is still a baby, you weaned him too early and now he will no longer be bonded to you, I bet he doesn't even know you are his mother... You are not pregnant, Mary, you are simply fat, all women get fat when they get to your age..."

The worst came when Grandma Josephine starting lying about George. Mary, by now at her wits end, heard the endless haranguing, "Because you are so fat, I suspect George has probably taken a mistress or mistresses. All men do when their wives lose their shapes. I'm glad I watched my weight... Best not let him touch you, Mary, men bring all kinds of awful things home when they lay down with loose women... You don't want your innocent babies getting sick from something George gives to you..."

As a result of her mother-in-law's dire warnings, Mary now began to nit-pick at George for the smallest infraction of the new rules -- rules she created to keep her children safe from any unknown "infections" George brought home from the whorehouse. "I told you not to sneeze in the kitchen, George!"

He tried to humor her, but in his own frustration, his fuse was unusually short. "If I have to tell you again, Mary that I have not taken a mistress, I'll..." He wanted to say "hit you," but he wouldn't, for George would never hit her. He would also not use empty threats.

But Mary, driven distraction by her unacknowledged condition and her hypercritical mother-in-law, taunted him. "You'll what, George, hit me? Why don't you hit the children while you're at it?"

Grandpa Joe remained silent when their arguments were confined to the privacy of their bedroom, but once, Mary lost all control, and openly insulted her husband in front of everyone, including their children, at supper table. "Maybe if you weren't always groping at my undergarments I would have time to iron your shirts."

At this, Grandpa Joe put his foot down.

That was not the only thing he put down. With a loud bang, Grandpa Joe also slammed his fists down upon the table. The children had no idea what their mother meant, but the adults did.

George was flabbergasted and turned bright red as Grandpa Joe took action. "Children you are excused. Go to your room until I call for you." Wendy almost four, and John a few months from two ran from the table at full speed. First her father turned to Mary, "Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, your husband can grope at your undergarments whenever he wants. He has never taken anyone to bed but you, and if you continue to be rude, unruly, and throw preposterous accusations at him, I myself will bend you over my knee and spank you hard enough so that you won't sit for a week. Now clear the table and wash the dishes, and iron your husband a fresh shirt. NOW!"

Next he turned to Grandma Josephine, "Listen here, woman, wipe that wicked grin from your face, go to your room and pack your bags. As long as I am alive and this is my house, you will not live in it another moment." Finally it was George's turn.

"George, this is your house." George tried to stutter a denial; Grandpa Joe just said it was his house. "No, George, this is your home, and your home is your castle. Your wife is your queen. Your children are your court. Your mother is the dragon. The dragon should not reside in the castle. Call your brothers and have one of them take her in. They inherited your father's money, they should have the burden that comes with it."

Grandpa Joe patted George on the back and then leaned into his ear, "Your mother is the one driving your poor wife insane. It begins the second your foot hits the pavement outside and does not end, even when you hang your hat at night. She is the one who put the idea of a mistress in Mary's head. She is the one who told Mary she is not expecting your child. She is the one that calls Mary fat. She is the one who calls Mary a bad mother and wife. She is the one who single handedly invaded your castle and set it aflame. She laughs at you, George, while your marriage burns. Do something before it is too late."

To show his sincerity, he shook George's hand as he left him at the table. "Who wants Grandpa Joe to tell a story?" he shouted up the stairs after the children.

"Only if it ends with a kiss," Wendy shouted with excitement meeting him on the top landing.

"Alright get your brother and come back downstairs now and I will tell you the happiest tale in all of the land."

In the parlor, with Grandpa Joe in his favorite chair and the children at his feet he began. "Once there was a king named George and he had a beautiful Queen named Mary. They lived in a huge castle, the finest in the entire world, but there was one problem. In the highest tower there was mean old nasty dragon that made everyone who lived kingdom unhappy especially the Queen...." Grandpa Joe's story ended with King George slaying the dragon and Queen Mary being so happy she gave the king a kiss as a reward for his courage. In Wendy's imagination, she replaced the brave knight that the king became with a pirate captain that king needed to call to save the day. He was the one that got the kiss, and he carried the queen from the castle on his horse away from the kingdom to sail away and live happily ever after.

Mary cleared the table and did the dishes. She ironed all of George's shirts; even the ones already pressed hanging in their wardrobe. George left after dinner to search out his brothers, and Grandma Josephine went to her room but didn't pack.

The next morning at breakfast, Grandma Josephine sneered to Grandpa Joe. "This is my son's house, not yours," she scowled to Grandpa Joe. "You may live within these walls, but it is by his good graces only. He pays the bills and I'm not leaving until he tells me to. And if you ever speak to me again like that, I will see that **_you_ **are the one to pack and be sent to the church mission. That's right, Mary is your only family, without her you'll be homeless. Best you keep a silent tongue with me, Joseph Baker."

She then went into a tirade about how her fourth son, who had always been her favorite, made all the money and supported everyone under his roof. He was the king as far as she was concerned, but Mary was no queen. Oh, no, she continued. Mary was the court jester who, in her loose ways, seduced the king and tricked him thrice into unwanted additions to his family's regal and royal bloodline. "You know, Joseph, had Mary never led my innocent little boy astray, George would have been a priest. But no, sweet Mary would never let that happen. She stole a saint from heaven and made him a sinner! You may have forgiven her, but God has not and for that alone, I never will!"

Grandpa Joe gawked at Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth, face stupefied in disbelief, "Priest? George is and has always been a banker, Josephine..."

Grandma Josephine laughed out (loud like any wicked witch would) and retorted, "He was saving his pay to enter the seminary, he would have been a priest -- no, actually Joseph, with God's special arrangement, I'm sure my son would eventually become the pope."

That was the most ridiculous thing Mr. Baker had ever heard in his life, but before he could tell her just that, she went on to call Grandpa Joe the peasant that stole the king's treasures, going so far as to call him a "thieving greedy lazy criminal."

Grandpa Joe was not one to sit back and take insults. Before he reacted to her words he wanted one more assurance that she deserved the slap he was waiting to give her. He then politely inquired after George's children. She retorted bitterly, "They are bastards, all of them, and I doubt one of them belongs to George. He only plays the part of father to them because he is just that good of a man and feels sorry for any child born fatherless. The bigger fish sired Wendy and everyone knows that. If Mary would lie down for George, then I know she did the same for a man with more money. Why she didn't marry him? That's simple. Your daughter is a devil in the flesh, and she wanted my son, for he is a saint. She'll get a special reward when she returns to hell for capturing him single-handedly. Penny's husband fathered the baby she carries now. That's why she denies she is expectant because she knows my son does not believe a word she says, because your daughter is a liar! And her telling George that poor grieving man, who had only lost his wife the night before, tried to force himself on her--! Well, she probably was wearing one of her silky nightgowns, smelling all pretty, doused with perfume, she was asking for it. She wanted to get in the wrong way again to keep my favorite son trapped in HELL! Face it, Mr. Baker, your daughter was and will always be a dirty wanting whore."

Grandma Josephine did not attempt to deny who fathered John, because looking at him, one could tell he was a miniature version of George, right down to spectacles he would need to see later on in life.

Grandpa Joe listened and stewed in his own juices at the senior Mrs. Darling's tirade. He clenched his fists so tightly, they turned white. She could see the fury rising in him as she went on and on about his only daughter, his most priced possession. She was intentionally cruel and spiteful in her words, hoping beyond hope he would hit her. That way she could kill two birds with one stone, Mr. Baker and his daughter. She ended with a very nasty, "Go ahead Joseph, whack me! My husband was a stronger man than you and if I can live through his brutal beatings, you're feeble fists will not even bruise my delicate skin!"

Right then and there Grandpa Joe decided it was best not to smack George's mother, she was right on one measure. If George threw him out of the house, he would have nowhere in the world to go except his sister's. Stubborn as he could be, to go to Millicent's he would have to admit that he was wrong about liking and respecting George so much. That was the reason she no longer spoke to him. That would be a fate worse than death, so instead he lifted the table and threw it over.

Mary, on the other hand (who had been listening in the doorway) felt it was her right to defend her family. The woman was truly as horrible as the dragon in Grandpa Joe's story. She had heard her mother-in-law say revolting things about her, her husband and her children. As that sorry excuse for a family member, her own mother-in-law, called Mary a "wanting whore who not only deserved it, but asked to get raped" (looking her straight in the eye as she did) the anger grew inside of Mary to a level that could not be contained. Mary strode forward, raised her hand and clutched her fist tightly, bringing it down with great force to Mrs. Frederick Darling's jaw.

Grandma Josephine fell on the floor and began to scream for aid. "George, my baby boy! Help your poor mother! You wife's insane and she is trying to kill me! Help me! George, you were always my favorite! God sent me to protect you, and I was always here to protect you! Save me son! Save me from the devil!"

George ran into the kitchen just in time to hold Mary back, as she was enraged and ready to strike again, this time holding a carving knife.

Grandpa Joe laughed, "See, Josephine, enrage the queen and face the guillotine."

George clutched his wife, whispering in her ear, "Mary, please, remember your expectant condition. I will make her leave, just please calm yourself." When she had calmed, he released her and she went to their room to wake and dress the children. George assisted his mother to the sofa and sent word to the bank that he would not be in that day.

Grandpa Joe cleaned the mess in the kitchen, and when the children came downstairs everything was as it should be.

Of all of George's brothers, the only one he could find still in London was Peter, the first son. Even though he was the oldest, at least fifteen years George's senior, he was a something of a child at heart, though he tended to at times to be very selfish and sneaky. He was the only one who broke his word to his parents and kept in touch with his little brother, even if only on Christmas and Easter. He knew about Wendy and John, but was unaware of the baby on the way.

"Good man, keeping the wife barefoot and pregnant," he said, as he patted George on the back hard enough to knock him over, when he arrived and saw Mary at the door.

Mary broke down that day and retrieved her maternity clothes from the attic and was now in a loose fitting house dress with enough room for her inflated belly. Peter knelt down in front of Mary, and gently rested his head to her stomach. A swift kick, warning not to disturb the baby comfortably resting within, made the eldest Darling son joke, "This one will be trouble, George. You mark my words!" George chuckled, his wife Mary only managing a small grin.

Peter knew of the children, but had never met them. Being just a child at heart himself, he rolled on the floor and played with them till they laughed so hard they cried.

After a quiet supper, the children were sent to bed. George and his brother sat in the parlor to discuss their mother.

"She's driving Mary mad. I'm afraid she will go insane if Mother stays here," George began.

Peter did not want his mother living with him, either, so together they argued for over an hour about who was to be stuck with her. "She's lived here with you since father died," Peter said defiantly. "This is where she wants to be, George, with you. Our other brothers offered to take her in, but she was just insistent that you were the one she wanted to live with. You have always been her baby boy and her favorite. This is her home, George; you can't take our mother from her home. In addition, I'm back and forth from Paris all the time, she will be alone if she moves in with me, and over here everyday anyway. You should just lock her in her room if she gets to be too much trouble. Or better yet, call one of our other brothers to take her, why does it have to be me?" Peter was taller than George by inches, and his voice was loud and imposing.

George's voice was more reserved, and he stuttered when he was nervous, especially when in the company of his oldest brother. Whenever George would fight with his brothers when he was a child they would gang up on him and beat him up till he wet his pants and cried. He'd do whatever they told him and they always took away anything that brought him even the mildest happiness.

At first, Peter felt George was still that little boy, and could be bullied and intimidated, so he commanded that his mother stay with George and his family, and there was "not to be another word about it!"

"Like I said already, George," Peter stood to show his height above his brother, "Mother is staying here with you. Do you understand, George? I am not to be bothered with this nonsense again. Mother stays here and you take care of her because that is what she wants. I'm sure she's just jealous of your lovely wife, you know she never liked to share you with any other woman."

Mary listened from the kitchen as well as Grandpa Joe. When she was sure George was about to agree and send his brother on his way, she rose from her chair, but was caught by her father and made to wait. "Listen to your husband, Mary, he is about to tell his brother he is the king of his castle," her father whispered. So Mary listened.

"You are wrong, Peter, for you will take mother with you." George's voice was strong, and he stood tall, facing his brother. "She is not staying in my house another day. I will give you until tomorrow morning to come fetch her; otherwise I will send her in a cab to your home by noon. I have taken care of her long enough, and now it is your turn. I would advise that YOU call your two other brothers and make arrangements for her to stay with them, as well. None of you have marriages she can ruin. Since I'm her favorite, when she dies I will chip in for the funeral, and nothing else." George then walked his brother out the door with one more sentiment: "Oh, and Peter, once she is gone, which will be tomorrow, she is not welcome back in my house. Do not send her by here to visit, for this door will be closed to her. She has insulted my wife, my innocent children, and me, and I do not want to ever see or hear from her again. Be here first thing in the morning. Good night."

Peter never got a chance to answer, for George slammed the door in his face. Defeated and stuck with the dragon, Peter walked away from George's castle. George went to the kitchen and smiled at his wife and father-in-law. Mary gave her husband the most amorously intimidating look he had ever seen in his life, which caught him off guard. Still standing, Mary took George by the arm and led him upstairs. "Stay in my room tonight. You do not want to waken the children while giving the king his reward, Queen Mary," Grandpa Joe called after them. And so they did.

In the morning, George still had his smile, and so did Mary. Grandma Josephine had still not packed when Peter came to claim her, so Mary did it for her. As Mary folded her clothes back into her suitcase and gently wrapped her delicate items in a box, Grandma Josephine pleaded with her, "Please Mary, do not let George send me from his house. Peter is ... you just don't understand, Mary, without me to defend George ... Mary, you know what Peter is capable of ... please help me help you...Peter is the devil..."

Now it was Mary's turn to be silent, she only offered as she left Mrs. Darling alone in tears, "Priest, Josephine? And you called **_me_ **a liar? Anyway, I thought I was the devil in the flesh..."

Wendy and John played with Uncle Peter well into the afternoon, as he did not want to leave with the extra baggage. He finally did, dragging his mother nearly kicking and screaming from the house as she called out for rescue to her favorite son, "Please, George, I will be better, please don't make me go with Peter, he is the Devil."

George and Mary paid her absolutely no mind and banished the dragon from the castle forever with the simple act of closing the front door. Wendy watched, full of wonder, as Peter and Grandma Josephine left. Peter was no pirate captain, but on that afternoon, in her mind, he was the knight that saved the day. Mary kissed him on the cheek as his reward for removing the worst burden. But, she did not leave with him on the horse like Wendy wanted. Instead, she stayed with the cowardly king -- the one too afraid to slay the monster himself.

"Son, your mother said you were to be a priest? I had no idea," Grandpa Joe asked while George and Mary gazed out the front window, watching Mrs. Josephine Darling smack, punch and kick Peter who was attempting to load her into the waiting carriage.

George and Mary turned around to face him, George rolling his eyes, "Goodness, she still goes on about that?" George didn't feel it necessary to go into any details of his mother's crazy ranting of him becoming the pope. Just the same, seeing all eyes in the room on him as he sat on the sofa, he answered. "I was very ill as an infant, apparently it was so bad and my mother was so sure I was to die from it. She prayed and prayed, and I was saved. She told me when I was a young man I should become a priest to thank God for sparing me my life as a boy."

Mary rested her hand on George's shoulder giving a mild "and?"

George looked up to her and then to her father and shrugged his shoulders, "I never held the slightest interest in being a man of the cloth. Those who have the vocation say they are called to it, I have always felt I was called elsewhere." He finished his sentiment by lovingly rubbing his wife's tummy with his next child to be, growing inside. Instead of a swift kick of warning, George felt the baby move about, it seemed in an attempt just to be nearer to his hand.

That day, Grandpa Joe moved from his room into the guest room, and soon Mary and George created a grand nursery for the children. Finally having their own nursery, the children retreated there often to play. In June, another baby joined them.

Just as Wendy's labor was difficult, so was Michael's. Mary's water broke as she was putting the children to bed in their new room and George carried her to their bed and sent for the midwife. It was simple enough at first, the same pains she had for Wendy and John, but then something changed. "She's not opening as she should," the midwife told George. Mary had spent the night, morning and entire afternoon in hard labor. George and Grandpa Joe both knew that was bad, but not why. Two long days later, it was discovered Michael was also breech and wanted to come out bottom first. He gave Mary an awful time, not wanting to be born. The midwife pushed hard on Mary's belly to turn him around and every time she was convinced Mary should try to expel him, he would move back to his incorrect position in her body.

Four days after her pains began George stayed home from work and listened balled up on the floor outside the bedroom weeping, as Mary cried out in agony and begged God to forgive her sins and accept her into heaven. "It's going to be a dry birth, and that's bad enough. It's not safe for either one of them now, I'm surprised she's still alive, and I can't say about the baby now either, better call the priest," the midwife explained as she sent Grandpa Joe for the next-door neighbor to help.

The misery increased again and then more, when Grandpa Joe did call for the priest who gave Mary her last rites. "Just please take the baby out of me, save the baby, cut the baby out of me, I can't stand it, take the baby out of me before its too late, slice me open and take the baby, save the baby..." she begged everyone, the midwife, the next-door neighbor, the priest, George and her father. "George, kill me...take the pain away." Grandpa Joe took the other children out of the house so they could not hear her.

Finally at dusk, five whole days after it began, the vigilant midwife, who had not left Mary to sleep or eat, lost all her patience and stuck her hand up inside Mary and yanked the rather large baby boy out by the feet. He was blue and not breathing and Mary was ashen as blood poured from her, silent and still as death.

The midwife had enough sense to ring for the doctor and he was immediately there to tend the newborn. Soon, Michael was wailing for his mommy, not wanting to be separated from her. The midwife worked on Mary and stitched her tearing, with the doctor looking on offering his professional advice. He then took over and had the midwife assist him, when they saw the damage to Mary was far worse than suspected. Mary had passed out from the shock of having her baby wrenched from her body, and still had not awoken.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Darling, but your wife will never have another baby," the midwife told him when he returned from next-door, checking on the children. The neighbor had been relieved of her duties when she attempted to do what Mary had asked – cut the baby out. "Her insides are just as damaged as her outsides, and she'll be lucky if her monthlies even return. And that, mind you sir, is if she lives."

George went to her, touching her forehead to waken her, but she did not stir. Unlike the Sleeping Beauty she had appeared to be after having Wendy and John, she now appeared more like she was Snow White, dead in her coffin. "Best let me keep on with this, Mr. Darling, as it could take awhile," the doctor muttered between her legs, intent on repairing what was left of her womanhood.

There was a mess of bloody sheets and blankets with the birth of their first two children; now, with Michael, it was something out of a horror novel. The midwife brought George sheets dripping with Mary's blood, and asked for more rags to clean up with. "The doctor is still with her working on her." After only a few minutes she returned with those he had just given her, equally saturated and dropped them into the washtub. The doctor followed her in, and washed his hands covered in bodily fluids and raw tissue from the most intimate parts of Mary George had never seen. "If she keeps bleeding, Mr. Darling, you will have to take her to the hospital. There is only so much I can do without the proper instruments and operating room." At midnight, with the children tucked in and the newborn fast asleep, in the care of Grandpa Joe, George carried Mary to the cab waiting outside, and took her away.

The children awoke to a new baby and Grandpa Joe's pancakes, with sweet sugary syrup and extra butter. They took no notice of their father missing, as it was a weekday or their mother, figuring she was lying in after her hard work of creating a new baby. George arrived as they ate and Grandpa Joe met him in the hall outside of the kitchen. He had been crying and his eyes were puffy, his face pale. He whispered to Grandpa Joe who said nothing and only patted George on the back, which turned into an embrace before he headed up the stairs. George retrieved Mary's carpetbag and was out the door in a dash, without saying anything to the children.

"When will mommy have another baby?" Wendy asked.

"Mommy won't be having any more babies, Wendy, not ever," Grandpa Joe responded, touching her happy face.

"Why would she not?" John managed, with his mouth full. He was two years old and already able to form complete sentences, just as George had when he was that age.

"Because God said mommy and daddy can't have anymore. And we are not to question the word of God on such matters."

Mary did not return home that night, or the next, or any day in the near future. On Sunday, Grandpa Joe took the children to church without their mother or father. George returned some nights, fed the children their supper, bathed them and put them to bed. Other nights, he arrived home after they were put to sleep by Grandpa Joe. But every night, Wendy listened by the door of the nursery as he came up the stairs when he was done doing whatever cowardly kings do, and wept in his room. She cried for her mother too. "I want my mommy," she would yell at George when he would attempt to hug her and offer her comfort. Words hurt, especially when she stomped her feet and shouted, "I hate you! You took away Mommy!"

Six weeks after Michael was born, on a Sunday after church the children waited, dressed in their finest. Grandpa Joe had told them to pray for Mommy and maybe if they were good, quiet, and listened to the priest give his sermon, God would send Mommy home. Later, Wendy and John sat on the sofa and Michael cooed in the bassinet when the door to the Darling house opened. George helped his wife in, and took off her coat. The children darted to her and embraced her tightly around her waist. She was still in pain, but she hugged and kissed them both before Uncle Peter lifted her and carried her up the stairs. Wendy watched the knight who saved the day return and whisk the pretty Queen off her feet and to her happily ever after. Unseen by Wendy, George had carried Mary all the way home from the hospital. It was Sunday, and impossible to find a cab on the Lord's Day of rest.

"She wants to see the baby George, she missed him so," Peter said to George in the company of his family and friends who had also gathered to welcome Mary home, as he descended the stairs, "and she wants to say thank you to everyone for stopping by, she just doesn't feel well enough to receive visitors yet." With the guests of the house out of earshot, Peter whispered to his youngest brother, "Does Mary even know she had the baby?"

The weak king slowly climbed the stairs to their room with Michael in his arms, stopping halfway up to take rest. Later in the afternoon, before supper, Wendy sneaked up to peek in on her mother. Mary was sleeping with Michael in her arms, and her father dozed on the chair alongside them. (Not only was the king cowardly and weak, but he was lazy too.)

George was exhausted. For weeks he had risen early in the morning to visit the hospital and check in on Mary, who had required surgery to stop the internal bleeding. Then it was off to a full day of work. After work, he would go back to hospital and stay with Mary for a few precious moments before dashing home to fix supper for the children, give them their baths, and then putting them into bed. He would then return to Mary at the hospital until the nurse told him to leave. He would walk all the way home, sleep in his clothes and start the whole process over in the morning. Grandpa Joe told him every Saturday to rest in bed, but he would not hear of it. He would awaken just as early and run all the errands before the children got up. He went to the grocer, the baker, the laundry, the butcher, and post office. He stopped off at home to drop off his purchases and then spent the rest of the day in the hospital reading to Mary as she rested.

There was much work to be done around the house in Mary's absence. Grandpa Joe tried his best, but housework to him was tedious and very tiring, especially for a man who never had to clean anything in his life. George did the best he could alone, and still the sink was full of dishes, and only George had any clean clothes. He took his laundry to the shop at the corner just so he had something to wear to the bank. Uncle Peter stopped by to help do the dishes, and paid the laundry to wash everyone's clothes, paying double because it was Sunday. He along with the neighbors also swept and mopped and dusted. With all that arranged and completed, Uncle Peter still had time to play a game with the children. He had all the time in the world to play house, for he was retired and wealthy with no one at home but his mother. He was only too happy to stay away from her.

At only four years old, Wendy already had the makings of a wonderful storyteller of adventure and romance. She cast her father as the cowardly king, her mother as the beautiful Queen, Uncle Peter as the brave Knight, Grandma Josephine as the dragon. Grandpa Joe always told stories of pirates, so to her; Grandpa was the pirate captain's first mate. The only face she couldn't find among all of the grown ups she knew was the face of the pirate captain. She had already given him a name, though; she called him Captain Hook, for in her fairy tale, the knight named Peter cut off his hand with his valiant sword defending the castle and fed it to a nasty dragon. It was a lesson to the pirate captain to stay away from the beautiful queen who slept under a magic spell that could only be broken with a kiss. The cowardly king tried to claim the kiss and failed, for he was weak and lazy. The pirate captain was sure that it he that should awaken the fair maiden. And once he did, he threatened all in the kingdom that she would sail away with him and live happily ever after.


	12. Chapter 12 The Grown Ups

Rated R – Sexual Content

My Darling Love

Chapter 12 – The Grown Ups

"_The joys of parents are secret, and so are their grieves and fears."_

_-Francis Bacon_

Wendy told her mother the story of the cowardly king and the beautiful queen, the dragon and the pirate captain as Mary rested in bed. She had been there the entire summer, and she was still not well enough to stand alone. George carried her tenderly in his strong arms to the sofa in the parlor before leaving for the bank, and at the end of his long and tiring day; he carried her back up to bed. The children never saw George's chivalrous acts, as they were sleeping.

The surgeon at the hospital told George that it was the midwife's fault Mary was in such a grievous condition. He said that pulling his second son out was what caused the damage, but then admitted that, had she not acted, both Mary and the baby would have died. "It's a hard choice for a midwife, you understand, Mr. Darling, I'm sure you know yourself a woman who died with the life still inside of her."

Forever Mary's perfect skin would have the scar across her abdomen where the doctor sliced through to mend her insides. The midwife was correct about one thing; Mary would never have another baby. "It's just not possible, I did have to remove only one part of her and you can thank the Lord for that, Mr. Darling, and I did have to stitch quite a lot of her womb, not to mention other womanly parts. The scars she will wear on her insides are worse than what is visible outside. Her monthly may return, but your wife is now barren."

So on Saturdays, while George slept in the nursery on Wendy's bed, Wendy spent the morning with her mother away from her two brothers, playing with the assorted friends that came by to help. Mary looked on as Wendy acted out slaying the dragon, and listened as she carried on about how lazy and silly the king was. "All the king does all day long, Mommy, is sleep on the princess' bed while the queen waits for him in the tower."

Mary too had cast people in the roles of all of her daughter's characters, but in her mind, all but one was played out differently. She kept Grandpa Joe as the pirate captain's first mate, but the cowardly king was George's father, and the beautiful queen was her lovely mother. George was the brave knight, but instead of falling in love with the queen, he pined after the queen's daughter, the princess. She cast Penny's husband as the pirate captain and assured Wendy it was not his kiss that would wake sleeping beauty. "Why? Don't you like pirate captains, Mommy?" Wendy asked.

"Pirates are mean and cruel, Wendy. They don't love anything but money and themselves. A pirate captain with no hand would not even know what a kiss is," Mary replied. Being only four and loving the stories her mother told, Wendy decided right then and there that the pirate captain was mean and nasty and was undeserving of the princess' kiss. With the dragon banished, she asked her mother for another scary monster to eat up the pirate captain.

Unable to think of one, she told Wendy to "ask Grandpa Joe." She did and he said, giving it some serious thought, "Hmmm. Crocodiles are scary. They are ferocious with a big bite. I bet they could swallow the pirate captain up with one gulp."

Wendy was so excited and could not contain her happiness, now that she had the perfect ending to her story. She raced back up the stairs to tell her mother, but her father, the cowardly king told her, "Mother is sleeping now and cannot be disturbed." Wendy was furious and attempted to push pass her father into the bedroom only to be picked up and carried back downstairs. Maybe the weak king was not so weak after all, for he held onto Wendy who kicked and screamed, crying hysterically, wanting anyone but George to save her.

"Please Wendy, just this once let daddy be the hero," George said as he placed her down on a chair in the kitchen. Wendy conceded, just this once and allowed George to sooth her with a hug and kiss. "I promise the moment Mommy wakes up I will take you back up to her." That was good enough for Wendy, who pecked the king on his smooth cheek before running off to her imaginary world.

Wendy was not old enough to remember what it was like when John was a baby and so she did not remember how different things got with a newborn in the house. She was now old enough to know the new baby got extra attention. He needed to be fed and changed. Uncle Peter sang him to sleep and George cradled him in his arms while he read the paper on Sunday.

Wendy grew very jealous of Michael. It seemed someone always wanted to hold him, and whoever came by to visit always said, "Oh we just stopped by to see your beautiful new baby boy." They all but ignored Wendy who followed after the neighbors and her parent's friends dancing about, wanting desperately to be noticed. Poor Wendy ended up sitting alone in a corner watching the little baby be passed about, kissed and cuddled. Again George gave his daughter a valiant rescue, and tried to sooth her frown away with, "Wendy dearest, everyone was just as excited to see you when you born, its only fair Michael receive the same affections."

George's words didn't work, but his actions did. He picked Wendy up and sat her on his lap on the sofa. "Now Wendy, hold out your arms like this." He showed her the correct way to hold a baby, and she did anxiously. With her nestled into George's chest, Grandpa Joe gently handed baby Michael to his sister. Wendy held the newest addition to the Darling Family sleeping in her arms, supported by George's. George embraced the moment, it would be a memory he would carry with him his entire life, short lived bliss at best. For the next moment Uncle Peter arrived and picked both Wendy and Michael up from George with his larger stronger arms, taking away yet another simple joy that belonged to George. Wendy, just a child, blind of such things exclaimed as she rested back into Uncle Peter as he sat down in his favorite chair in George's parlor, "You have a much more comfy lap than my daddy..."

John was too young to care about Michael or the attention. And soon enough, Wendy followed suit. But she did not like the new baby, for he was a bother. He would wake her up in the middle of the night with his insistent crying. Mary, unable to get out of bed, sent George to the nursery. He was all right when the baby slept comfortably in his arms but when Michael required more than just someone to rest upon George was no use. He would try to lull Michael back to sleep, and end up tripping on the toys left about the room while he was heading back to Mary. She only took a minute to quiet him.

When Wendy would call for her mother in the middle of the night, she still sent George. Her stubborn daughter, just like her mother before her, would only cry more and scream, "I want Mommy!!!" so loud she would wake the entire family. Those were the times most difficult in the house, and many a night Grandpa Joe had to do a little spanking, for George refused, "I can understand why she wants her mother, being a young girl."

But Grandpa Joe was adamant on one thing, "It's one thing to want her mother, it is an entirely different thing to refuse her father." Wendy got a swift crack on the behind and cried herself to sleep, still wanting Mary.

In the autumn, Mary finally had the strength to move around of her own accord. She was still pale and weakened, but she did her best during the day to take care of her family. George did the shopping, for Mary could not leave the house. Grandpa Joe and a few close friends and neighbors helped with the laundry and the cooking, leaving Mary to care for the children. Aunt Millicent, still in silent protest to the Darling family, sent her butler anonymously to help clean the house. Every Saturday, Uncle Peter would stop by to take Wendy and John to the park, and enjoy the nice weather. This was his way of helping Mary rest. George continued to work long days and fret over money. Mary's surgery and lengthy hospital stay had drained their entire savings, and once again, they had to start over.

"I would be more than happy to give you a generous loan, George to help you get by, but you would have to take mother back in with you and the family," Peter offered, which was not even an option. Not only would Mrs. Frederick Darling quickly drive Mary into the grave, George liked the house set up the way it was, with just enough room for everyone inside to be comfortable and in their own place. He refused his brother with, "We will be fine, just have to tighten our belts for awhile," when he really wanted to tell him, "Go to hell, Peter."

Christmas morning was the first time since Michael was born that Mary looked like her old self. The children had opened their presents the night before on Christmas Eve, after returning from midnight mass. Mary walked to the church with her family, sitting when others stood during the service, holding Michael. After church, the children raced home, Uncle Peter bringing little Michael. Peter, Wendy, John and Grandpa Joe made it home almost an hour before their mother and father. The children were already done opening gifts and on their way to bed when their parents arrived. Halfway through the long walk home, Mary had grown exhausted. George lovingly carried her the rest of the way.

Dawn of Christmas Day, Mary awoke before the rest of the family and bathed by herself. She dressed in her prettiest house dress and went to the kitchen to begin the lovely dinner she always prepared on the holiday. George was shocked when he awoke alone, and later than usual. Mary wanted him to get some extra sleep, for he had paled in the past months from exhaustion. She did some last minute cleaning before their guests arrived, giving George a peck on the cheek and his paper when he descended the stairs and began to help. "No, George, this is woman's work, you just relax today. I am feeling so much better than yesterday."

It was to be a full house that year. Grandpa Joe invited Aunt Millicent after asking his son-in-law nicely, "Please George, I am so proud of your family and this will be the first year I can rub it in her face how truly happy we are. Anyway, she really does want to meet your children and make peace."

George invited his brother Peter as Grandma Josephine went to visit with her third son somewhere else and would not be missed. With no other place to spend his holiday, Peter agreed. The children, Wendy and John, dressed and raced downstairs to everyone already assembled. Aunt Millicent was impressed that Mary and George had three. "With your salary George, I'm surprised you didn't stop at one," she remarked, as pompous and supercilious as always.

George didn't mind Aunt Millicent's disposition because Mary was finally well, and her comment made his wife laugh. "Aunt Millicent, I believe the saying is the children are a poor man's wealth."

Aunt Millicent turned up her nose and rolled her eyes at her estranged niece. "Indeed, they are, Mary Elizabeth."

As far as the new Darling family was concerned, Mary was the finest chef in all of London, and her Christmas dinner was the envy of all the neighbors. As she cooled her pies on the windowsill, the old man next door would make excuses to his wife that he needed fresh air, just to get outside for a whiff of their sweet scent. She roasted a goose that George had chosen, with potatoes and vegetables and all the trimmings. She made her mother's pudding, adding the ingredients word for word from the recipe. She served the dinner on her mother's china, serving George first, and everyone sat down and held hands, reciting the Lord's Prayer.

On this night, the table was alive with chatter. Starting from the head of the table where George sat, his wife Mary to his right, Wendy, John, Grandpa Joe at the other end of the table, Aunt Millicent and Uncle Peter engaged in spirited conversations. It was a happy time full of love and bliss, and everyone laughed, enjoying being together as a family.

After dinner came dessert, and after dessert came bed for the children. After being tucked in, Wendy fled her bed and hid at the top of the stairs gazing down in the formal parlor where the adults still carried on the celebration, drinking wine from fancy goblets and smoking cigars and cigarettes. Soon friends of George and Mary, other couples that left their homes and ventured through the snow to share the fun, joined the family. Out of the piano in the parlor poured cheerful tunes that caused all present to get up and move about on their feet. Wendy couldn't see who played the piano, but the only one not dancing was Uncle Peter. The couples twirled and swirled around the room -- so much so Wendy got dizzy from watching. George, the generous host and passed out the cigars and drinks. "Another drink? Have a cigar, it's Christmas!" Mary, the gracious hostess, made small talk with the ladies, flattering their dresses and hairstyles. "That is a lovely gown you have on this evening. Was that not the exact one that hung in the window of the dress shop on Seventh Street? It must have cost a fortune but worth every penny, you wear it so well!"

There were things Wendy never knew about her parents. She never knew George drank on Christmas enough to leave him inebriated. She never knew her mother smoked, and watched in awe as she lit one cigarette after the other while speaking to a lovely lady dressed in crimson red. Her delicate hand held within two fingers the smoking stick and every so often as the gossip got juicy her mother would elegantly lift it to her mocking mouth and inhale. A moment later she expelled smoke from the right side of her mouth where her kiss lay hidden. Then she would smile with an open mouth, licking her lips and looking about as if she knew something no one else in the room was aware of.

"Oh Mary Elizabeth, how scandalous of you to smoke, whatever will the neighbors think? Don't let your Aunt Millicent catch you with that in your mouth!" A gentleman taunted as he passed Mary in the hall, giving her a flirtatious wink as he headed back into the parlor.

"Actually Robert, I hear its a rather humorous way to shock the men us ladies are entertaining." Mary shouted back, returning his wink, very unladylike of her being married to George. Mary knew the fact of his statement already, even if it was just a tease, for Aunt Millicent had told her only a moment before, "Only the lower class woman and prostitutes smoke, now put that thing out. How vulgar Mary Elizabeth!"

Mary was a little tipsy herself, for she informed her newly reconciled aunt, "This is my house and I can do whatever I want inside of it, for I am a queen!" Mary turned back to her friend and giggled, as Aunt Millicent attired herself in her coat and hat and took flight, slamming the front door as she went.

"Speaking of inappropriate things in the proper lady's mouth..." The party guest standing beside Mary began, causing Wendy's mother to lend her ear as her friend whispered. Wendy, at the top of the stairs, listened as hard as she could, only hearing certain parts of the story her mother was engaged in. Most parts were softly spoken back and forth, ear to ear. Other parts said out loud and made no sense, at least not to a small child.

"She didn't know what," the missing part being given privately between two ladies, "meant? Oh goodness, and they have been married for so long. What woman won't," again, not meant to he heard out loud, "husband when he asks. Now mind you, it has been quite sometime for George and I, but I used to pleasure him all the time in that way. And frankly, between you and I, he doesn't even have to ask. I love the way he tastes."

To which the woman Mary was speaking with snickered and again took Mary's ear causing Wendy's mother to bust out into hysterics, "salty really? George's has more of a..." Mary dragged on her cigarette blowing the smoke off to the side before finishing, "a sweet taste that tingles my tongue." Both women laughed falling into one another, "you lucky girl Mary."

There were many other things that baffled Wendy, having nothing at all to do with her parent's Christmas party. She didn't know how her parents met, or how George proposed. She knew nothing of the bigger fish or Grandpa Joe's disownment. And still she watched the adults, intrigued by what she saw.

Just when she could no longer keep her eyes open, she saw her mother and father enter the hallway alone. At the bottom of the stairs away from prying eyes, Mary gave George the hidden kiss from the corner of her mouth. But it did not end there, for once he kissed her mouth, he wanted more from her. He kissed from her lips to her ear and then down her neck to her breasts. She had changed after the children were snug in their room into a form fitting and very revealing ensemble that cut low on her cleavage. He pressed her mother up against the wall and again their lips met, this time rougher and more demanding. George moved his hands to Mary's breasts and without a care for the delicate fabric forced his hand down inside. The dress tore and Mary pushed him back. "I'm sorry Mary," he slurred, fleeing back into the party. She shook her head with a little smile, then took to the stairs, holding the front of her outfit closed.

Having no time to make it back to the nursery, Wendy retreated to the closet in her mother's room. She was now breaking her parent's sacred rule to never enter the privacy of their bedchamber without their permission. Wendy had knocked many times on the door and was allowed no further than the entranceway. Only when her mother was bedridden was she allowed admittance.

But that was months ago, and the rule once again stood, "You are absolutely forbidden in our room." Mary entered and locked the door. She quickly disrobed to her undergarments and opened the wardrobe where Wendy took cover. Wendy closed her eyes, hoping that if she couldn't see her mother, maybe Mary wouldn't see her cowering behind George's suits either. Mary flipped through dresses on the rack and picked one just as nice as the one her husband had torn. She reassembled herself and checked her reflection before leaving.

Wendy had escaped being caught, but only for a moment. A few seconds later, Mary's voice echoed through the house screaming her name, "WENDY! WENDY!" George flew up the stairs and into the nursery; John, asleep in his bed, had awoken and was crying, as well as Michael in the crib. Wendy's bed was empty and cold, as if she had not been there all night. The formal party filled with merriment hushed and soon all the couples began hunting for the little lost girl. Finally Grandpa Joe found her, still hiding in her parent's closet, too scared to come out and admit she was out of bed.

"Wendy, you are never to do that to me and your mother again, do you understand?" George flared shaking his finger at her.

"We were sick with worry, Wendy. What were you thinking?" Mary cried as she clutched her daughter to her chest.

"I wanted to see the party and the pretty dancing," Wendy responded, looking at all the unfamiliar faces gathered, people who were also breaking her parents' rule. Mary brought Wendy to her room and put her to bed without another word after George spanked her. It hurt him more than it hurt her, but as Grandpa Joe told, "Wendy broke two rules in your house, she went in your bedchamber without permission, and she was snooping in adult matters when she should have been in bed."

George leaned Wendy over his lap and gently tapped her bottom, not hard enough to even sting. Truth be told, with her bloomers on, it felt like the love pat she had received many times when she ran past Uncle Peter while playing. But nonetheless, Wendy cried as if George burned her with fire.

Mary locked the children in their nursery and soon, the downstairs was again full of laughter. Wendy cried herself to sleep that night, a child locked in to a baby's room, wishing she was a grown up.

Wendy, John and Michael were best friends, and as soon as Michael was able to walk and talk, they went everywhere together. They shared secrets and stories and locked the grown ups out of their fantasy world. Not all grown ups, of course. They let in Grandpa Joe, and Mary when she was not in the company of their father. The older they got, even though they respected him, he was not a favorite to have at home. He was very serious and easily annoyed when the children made noise. "Please children, a little less noise there, a little less noise."

Mary was a welcome guest if she were by herself, for she giggled and tickled them, showering hugs and kisses upon them. She told them stories and made funny faces, performing all the different voices of her characters. She gathered them around the piano in the afternoon before their father got home and let them dance to the music that rang out from the instrument. They sang along with her, and as they got older she began to give them all lessons, telling them, "Natural talent on a musical instrument such as this never fades."

But when Mary was Mrs. Darling and not Mommy, she was different. She would shush them when George got home from work, and, most disturbing to the children, she would leave them and prefer his company after dinner. "Go play in the nursery, children, I want to spend sometime with your father." He always sat in the kitchen and read the paper as she washed the dishes with children watching from the hall. It was an odd silence between them the children found troublesome. In their world they chattered on about everything. Their parents said nothing to one another only exchanging simple statements like, "How was your day today dearest?" Mary would ask and George would reply by shaking his head and "giving her the eyes," as Grandpa Joe called it.

"What eyes?" John would ask.

"The eyes that say everything your mother needs to know without asking."

Mary had "the eyes," too. George would flip through the paper, finding something of interest that made he's eyes go wide, "Have you read this Mary?" Mary would stop what she was doing and read over his shoulder, George pointing out to her his place of interest. Mary would meet his gaze when she finished, giving him "the eyes" and then returning to the dishes.

So George sat and read the paper and randomly gave Mary details like, "Stocks are up again." She would nod and stick out her lower lip as if impressed by the information. He never asked what she made for dinner, or when it would be ready. He'd come through the door at the same time every evening, take off his coat and hat and sit at the supper table and wait. She served him first, and he ate quietly. When he was done Mary would say, "Would you like more, George?" He never did want more and would nod with a mild grin his enjoyment of her meal. Then it was off to the kitchen with his paper while she cleared the dishes and straightened the kitchen.

Mary brewed the tea and sat across from him with her hands folded before her and watched him read when everything was tidy and in its place. From that moment on, Mary would be up and down as George requested certain things he either needed done or wanted, "May I have lemon for my tea?... Could you get me a napkin?... More tea, Mary... Another lemon, Mary... Did you remember to...?" Whatever it was, Mary didn't remember so she would rise up from the table and do it, only to retake her seat across from him.

When he was done reading, he would look at her and smile before folding the paper neatly and discarding it, excusing her from his bidding but not before giving her one last task. "Getting late, my love, best put the children to bed. I will be up to help in a minute."

Mary would then become Mommy again, and race up the stairs chasing her children into the bath. One by one she would bathe them individually. Wendy was first, John was second and Michael was last. She ran bubbles and let them play with toys and splash her while she hummed and giggled. The two not in the tub were playing in the nursery. When all the children were clean and in fresh pajamas, Mary would spend an hour talking with them and telling them stories, their father nowhere around.

They said their prayers, with Mary kneeling beside them and get tucked into their beds. Just before Mary turned the lights out, George would come in and pat them on the heads and wish them "a good night's rest." Mary was more affectionate and hugged and kissed them, adding, "Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite!" The children would stick out their tongues and in unison wrinkle their faces, "Euughh...bed bugs." With her gone all the children made the same observation, "Father's watch must be broken for that was the longest minute in the world."

Not only was Mary the finest chef in all of London, she was also the finest mother. And it must have been true, because Aunt Millicent told her so: "Mary Elizabeth, you are the finest mother in all of London!" The children were always neat and clean when she came to visit. The nursery was tidied before she arrived, and the adults of the house directed the children "to be on your best behavior."

Aunt Millicent had grown to be a humorous character. The children would roll around on the floor in hysterics, watching her as she tugged on Mary's ear about some nonsense paying little or no mind to how many sugar cubes she dropped in her tea. As it cooled enough to be drunk, she would sip it ladylike and suck the sides of her cheeks in at its overly sweet taste. "Mary, I think the sugar you buy contains too much sugar, not good for the children, it will surely rot their teeth," Aunt Millicent would pronounce, causing Mary to giggle as well.

In the many stories she told, Wendy had not thought of the proper role for Aunt Millicent. Perhaps the court jester although she couldn't be certain. Grandma Josephine was long forgotten, and so was the dragon. The children were not aware of the events that took place before their birth, so they never knew how well she had fit the role. They just thought of her as a fancy lady that liked to needle the cowardly king. "I will never come for supper on Mondays or Wednesday s for you still will not allow Mary to serve meat on those days, George, which is a crime in itself."

Wendy went to school, and soon after John followed. She being a girl and he a boy, they went to separate private and proper primary schools. Wendy daydreamed about all the fun Michael was having alone with mother and Grandpa Joe, when she should have been practicing her penmanship. She would run home after school with John at her heels and demand Michael recount every detail of his day. Mostly, Michael had played with Grandpa Joe or watched mother clean and make supper. Sometimes she would take him to the park or the grocer. And one special time, he got to go to the bank where George worked to drop off the lunch he forgot to take with him.

Wendy and John were jealous, and danced around Mary for attention. Michael was also envious, for Wendy and John got to go to school and "learn stuff" as he put it. Mary did a mother's best to make sure every child got her equal time, letting Michael color at the table while she worked with Wendy and John on their lessons. But all too early the clock would toll six, and that meant Mr. Darling was coming home, and mother would change her face to greet him at the door.

Time passed, and they all grew, Wendy becoming a young lady of twelve, John a young man of ten and Michael a boy of eight. There was not much of a story to tell from infancy to that time in their childhood, because nothing really changed, not even their address. With the exception of her first few years of marriage, Mary always lived at the Darling residence, number fourteen. It had been her home with her parents, and now with George and her children, and she loved it there. Aunt Millicent became a constant fixture in their home once she said her peace on the matter to Mary privately, "I'm just glad he is your husband, Mary Elizabeth and not mine. You made your bed with him and now you will lie in it," which was fine with Mary, for she loved to lie in bed with George. Aunt Millicent soon invited herself over every day for supper, even Mondays and Wednesday's.

The only trouble Aunt Millicent ever caused was that she had a knack for bringing up topics of conversation the grown ups did not want to talk about. Out of the blue at Sunday night dinner, Aunt Millicent suggested, "George, I think it is time you give Mary Elizabeth another baby. Wendy should not be without a sister." Wendy was up from her chair in a minute begging and pleading with her parents for a sister. "What a lovely idea, please mother, can I?" as if it were to be she herself that would create the baby.

It hurt Mary to decline even the slightest desire of her children. This was one she could never grant. It was only made worse by Aunt Millicent's declaration, "You are still an able man, George, I am sure. You are still practically newlyweds! It's such a shame to be wasting our Mary Elizabeth in that way."

George, being the king of his castle, sternly replied, without needing to look at his lovely wife shrinking before his eyes, "Absolutely not, enough mouths to feed." He raised his glass to Aunt Millicent who had not, on this night or any other, been formally invited to sit at his table.

Wendy felt defeated by her father, the weak king, shooting him a wicked glare as she cried in her soup.

"Please reconsider, George, if money is the issue..." Aunt Millicent began.

Grandpa Joe interrupted knowing how his son-in-law felt about his private business, "Please, don't have another baby, George and Mary. Three happy, healthy children are enough for any family. Anyway Millicent, Mary Elizabeth is getting too old to be birthing another."

Aunt Millicent thought that was ludicrous, and as she continued on to make another unsolicited opinion, George silenced her with, "There will be no more babies in this house, Millicent." That was all that was spoken on the matter. After dinner while the family relaxed, Grandpa Joe whispered the secret to his sister about Mary's condition. She was still highly insulted with George's tone with her. But that changed as her cheeks flushed. She was not only embarrassed but also terribly sorry for the something impolite she had done without being aware of it. That is what she told George while Wendy curiously watched.

George and Mary Darling had three beautiful children, "her precious babies," as Mary called them. Had Wendy never asked for a sister, the thought of bringing another child into their home would never have crossed her mind. But she had asked, and Mary wanted. "I know we cannot have anymore children, but we should get the children something in a baby's place."

Wanting to please his wife, George gave it some thought and added the numbers like he always had, and recommended they hire a nanny. "Oh George," Mary exclaimed, "we can't afford a nanny, and frankly we don't need one. I am their mother, and I am the one who will care for them. I don't care that the neighbors all have nurses for their children. What kind of mother would want another to take care of her babies and tuck them into bed? And Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent watch the children whenever we go out." (They never went out, for all the extra income went into their savings for a rainy day.)

Grandpa Joe listened to the silent exchange between Mr. and Mrs. Darling, George showing her his figures, and Mary shaking her head with her eyes pleading, and came up with an idea of his own. "Why not get the children a pet, maybe a dog," he recommended, puffing on his pipe.

Before George could squash the notion, Mary's lit up, "Oh yes, George, a dog! What wonderful idea. But don't tell the children, let's surprise them!" She kissed his cheek repeatedly and hugged his neck.

He reluctantly agreed. "Alright Mary, if you think that would be best, tomorrow I will remove the funds from the bank, and after work, I will meet you at the pet shop."

"Oh no, George, this is to be a present from their father. You must pick the children out their new pet." George did not what know what his children's favorite food was, or their favorite toy, and he was far more out-to-sea as to what particular type dog they might fancy.

But Mary wanted, so George, being the king of the castle and -- more importantly -- a grown up, provided.


	13. Chapter 13 Mother's Scars

_Hello there, I just wanted to extend my thanks for the lovely reviews. As per Kasmira36's suggestion, I changed the summary of my story to include angst. I know it can be quite sad at times, even traumatic to read, but being married myself, I know it is simply immpossible for true love to exist in never ending happiness. _

_In order to grow up, we must grow and more importantly change. It is a eternal process that does end when adulthood is reached, it goes on forever. There must be strife in order for there to be change, especially in true love as contented as George and Mary's, ensuring lovers will progress forward together with one another. _

_ With that being said, thank you again for reading my story. I appreciate all of the reviews. I also want to extend my gratitude once more to Cheetahlee for beta reading, editing, proofing and i__nputting her own ideas which have helped the story along tremendously. On with the show..._

Rated R: Sexual Content

My Darling Love

Chapter 13 – Mother's Scars

"_In that second it dawned on me that I had been living here for eight years with a strange man and had borne him three children."_

_-Henrik Ibsen_

The bell on the clock tolled six, and like clockwork, the children of the Darling Residence were hushed by their mother and sent upstairs to dress for dinner. It was a rainy spring day and George was late coming home. Mary fretted between the window and the front door, gazing out when he still was not home by seven. She fed the children their supper and put them to bed without their bath.

Mary waited and waited and waited, but he never arrived home. The children were older and wiser, so they aligned like soldiers arm and arm and gazed over the banister to watch their mother pace the foyer. At nine, and still no George, she put on her coat and left. "I have to go find him, father, what if something happened? Listen for the children."

Grandpa Joe was also wise, and as soon as the door closed, he called to the children and told them to come downstairs and keep him company while they waited. "I'm sure your father's fine, no need to worry, probably just went for a drink at the pub after work with his colleagues and forgot the time." Grandpa Joe assured his grandchildren. But George never went to the pub for a drink or forgot the time, not once in his entire life. The children descended the stairs and waited with concern, not for poor George, but for their mother out on the streets looking for him unescorted.

John and Michael fell asleep on the floor by the fire. Wendy drifted in and out of sleep resting against Grandpa Joe on the sofa. They opened their eyes in the morning and they were safely tucked away in their beds. They had not forgotten what transpired the night before and were anxious to know the whereabouts of their father. With the house quiet, Wendy, the oldest and bravest of the three, was dispatched to peek into her parents' bedroom.

Wendy held an ear to the door and heard not a peep from the inside. Without knocking, and breaking her parents' sacred rule once again, Wendy carefully turned the knob and moved the door open just a tiny bit to see if in fact her mother and father had made it too, safely to their beds.

Mary and George lay entwined in a most peculiar manner. They were hidden under the blankets, but Wendy could tell they were definitely doing something they wanted no other to see. The blankets moved about around them and although she could not be sure, it appeared as if her father was atop her mother bouncing on her quickly. George was making funny sounds and breathing heavily, while Mary only groaned as if in pain.

Wendy watched through the crack in the door with much wonder at what lay beneath the covers on the bed, giggling as her father huffed away and then grunted. Soon, the movements stopped and George rolled off his wife, and stood up completely nude, making Wendy hide her eyes at the sight of him.

George walked to the chair next to the bed and dressed in his pajama bottoms. Wendy only caught sight of his bare bottom before she shielded her face with her hands. She was twelve now, and beginning to understand the difference between male and female. She thought it best, as most young girls do, to discover what a matured woman looks like bare before daring to see the nakedness of man. Therefore Wendy slowly peered through her open fingers in childlike curiosity to gaze at her mother.

It was then, when Mary rose and grabbed her nightgown that was crumpled beside the bed, that Wendy made her presence known in the doorway. As her mother turned towards the door, Wendy saw a ghastly, horrendous disfigurement on her Mary's naked body -- a series of scars that started at below her pelvic bone and ran up to almost her breasts. The longest one, that which ran down from her breastbone to her pubis was thick in size, atrociously a vivid red, and appeared still painful to the touch. Every inch but no more there were scars that ran perpendicular to the lengthy one, shorter in size but just as horrifying. A grotesque mark showing her womanhood removed, a constant reminder to her and George that no more children would ever be born of them. Wendy could not contain her scream and she wailed out in fright running back to the nursery.

Her brothers, John and Michael, were just as terrified hearing Wendy shriek out in fright. Standing in the nursery's doorway, they too, ran back to their beds. But unlike Wendy, who hid under the blankets, they chose a safer means to keep cover and hid under their beds. Mary entered the room to comfort all of her children that gasped as she entered. "It's alright my precious babies, come here, come here." They gathered around her, all wanting a spot on her lap, and she did her best, giving each one a loving embrace followed by a kiss. "What is all the screaming about? You all didn't have nightmares now, did you?" Mary asked glancing about at their worried faces. "No...We just are scared because Wendy is scared and if she is scared then there must be both something scary to scared of," John stuttered along as he shrugged his shoulders, thinking himself silly for hiding under his bed for no good reason. Wendy held her tongue, and so Michael spoke up, "I wasn't scared mother! Not one bit!"

George directed his sons to the kitchen, "Come now, boys, mother must speak alone with your sister," after Mary soothed the children for a short while longer. He nodded to his wife and left Mary with Wendy.

Mary eased her daughter by rubbing her head and telling her not to be frightened, for it was obvious she still was terrified. "It is alright, I am here now, Wendy." She kissed her forehead when she felt Wendy calm enough to answer and asked what had happened. "What did father do to you?"

Mary knew what George was doing to her under the blankets but was unsure about how much Wendy had seen. She cursed herself under her breath for not locking the door. As a matter of fact, when they began their morning passion, George had even told her, "Lock the door Mary." She dismissed his request not wanting to interrupt his seduction.

"Your belly mother, what happened?" Wendy put her hand by Mary's stomach, she, only a child, wanting to alleviate the ache she knew her mother still carried.

Mary was relieved for a moment Wendy had not witnessed more, and gave a sigh of reprieve while thinking of the correct way to explain such private things.

"I was sick after delivering Michael and needed to be fixed. The doctor told your father to take me to the hospital so that I could be repaired. They performed the procedures to make me well again, and what you saw on my belly is all that remains."

Wendy was a young lady in the making, and in no way an ignorant child. She quickly put two and two together and confessed, "That is why you and father cannot have anymore babies." Mary nodded her head, holding Wendy's face in her hands. "Did you want more babies?" Wendy inquired, lowering her face in shame; it was she who still wanted more babies from her mother.

"No, your father and I always dreamed of having three children, one girl and two boys. Our dreams came true and we are thankful to be blessed with what we have." It never occurred to Wendy that George dreamed about anything other than stocks and bonds and the market that raised and fell. To think her father dreamed of babies and such nonsense made her chuckle. Mary gave her daughter a curious expression of what she found so humorous so Wendy answered, "Father dreaming about babies..."

"Oh yes, your father dreamed of babies. He named you, you know." Wendy was surprised, not only did George think of babies, he thought of their names too. "I wanted to name you Georgeanne and call you Annie, but you never looked like an Annie, so your father told me his favorite, and I'm glad we chose it, for if ever there was a pretty young lady that deserved the name Wendy, it's you."

That fact did not sooth Wendy, for she never liked her name. Other girls in school had more fancy names like Katherine and Charlotte, Eleanor and Maryann. Her best friend in class was named Fanny, and Wendy thought that was a lovely name. Still, she was glad her mother and father had not picked Georgeanne. "Yes mother, Annie is an awful name, Wendy is much better." Mary hugged her daughter and gave her one more kiss on the cheek before directing her to dress and come downstairs for breakfast.

"Mother," she called to gain Mary's attention as she too headed to her room to dress herself for the day.

"Yes Wendy?" Mary stopped in the doorway and turned full around to give her daughter her full attention.

"Will that happen to me when I have a baby, I mean, when I am older, if I ever decide that maybe I want one." Wendy shook her head and rolled her eyes feeling foolish to even ask the question, for it was common knowledge -- even at her age -- that Wendy was never to be married nor a mother by her own choice. She preferred instead to go off on wonderful adventures. "Not like I will have children, I'll be too busy with other greater things than babies. But still..."

Mary contained the chuckle at Wendy's illusion that having children was silly, and frowned when her daughter assumed being a wife and mother was not worthy of being called great. It was the "but still" that gave Mary hope of being a grandmother some time in the future, so she replied, "For a woman, Wendy, there is no greater 'great' than giving a baby life and then watching her grow to young girl of twelve who has dreams of doing things greater than that great." Mary moved forward into the nursery to add, "Having a family, Wendy, is an awfully big adventure and I will be there for you when it is your turn to do the greatest great. Worry not after the scar, for it is nothing more than a mark of my life and a souvenir of my passages in womanhood. It is simply a reminder of what I did for the love of your father and my children."

George not only thought of babies and their names, he thought of dogs, too.

After he left the bank the day before, he went immediately to the pet store to chose the correct animal as pet. There were all sorts of dogs and cats, puppies and kittens in cages making noise and running about. George didn't like mess and he didn't like noise, and he didn't like the pet store. Wishing Mary were there to help in his decision, he asked the clerk which one was best.

"Well, are you looking for a guard dog or maybe a family pet? Is it for your wife? Proper ladies like little dogs that do not make much noise and prefer to rest on a pillow or lap. If it were for your children I would recommend a larger dog. The little ones seem to get trampled easily and will need to be replaced quicker."

George looked about the shop and picked the largest dog, which was not an easy task for there were several that were large. The shopkeeper saw the distress on the gentleman's face, not to mention his alarm when he jerked back as the dogs barking for attention charged their cages to get to him. "They are all friendly animals, they just like to be petted." The shopkeeper moved past George and opened a cage with a card that read "Nana," and she was excited to be in service once again to a family.

She jumped down and sat at George's feet and waited to be stroked on her furry coat. "Go ahead sir, she's a harmless thing." George touched the dog's coat and then patted it, sizing it up by looking it over top to bottom, with no idea what he was actually looking for. George knew enough to know "nana," as the card stated, didn't bark or jump up on people. So, persuaded by her perfectly obedient performance, he selected her.

Nana was a St. Bernard, and she was the largest dog for sale. When released from her prison in the pet shop and out into freedom, she jumped on George, knocking him to the ground and licking his face. She was already full grown, and because of that, less expensive, because people buying pets usually purchased puppies. That way they could grow with the children of the house, as opposed to buying fully matured dogs large enough for those self-same small children to ride upon.

George paid, and, with leash in hand, started home. Nana was very strong and dragged George behind her leading him several blocks out of his way so she could pass near the fountains. By the park, another ten blocks further she caught sight of a stray cat and gave chase with George holding her by the leash for dear life. She pulled him all over London, up and down every street. Completely out of breath and drenched in sweat, he could no longer run after her. Finally acknowledging defeat in his attempt to make his children and wife happy, he released her leash and then sat on the curb to compose himself before walking home, the forsaken loser.

Upon release, Nana bounded away from him and up the block in an instant, with her leash trailing behind her. "Ah, good riddance then," George looked on in rueful relief that the cheap dog -- she was too big for his little house anyway -- was gone. He removed his glasses and wiped the sweat from his brow looking up only to find, there beside him waiting, was Nana, with her leash in her mouth. She would not release it to him, and so he walked home without it, Nana following alongside him as he strolled at a much more leisurely pace.

Frequently, when she grew anxious to meet his family and her new charges, she would nudge his legs along quicker from behind. Nana accidentally tripped him twice that way, the second time causing him to fall flat on his face on the sidewalk scraping his palms. She licked them clean for him, as he watched in disgust and made him stop again when he wiped her medicated drool on his pants leg, just so she could slobber them again barking loudly enough to wake the neighbors, warning him that he should let her love licks dry and keep his hands safe from infection. She continued to bark the whole way home, as if telling George her entire life story from pup to princess' maid, only giving her new master a pounding headache.

Up to the doorstep of the Darling residence George looked down at Nana, foolish to speak to a dog, but he did and said, "Now the children are asleep, so you must be quiet." And quiet she was, so they entered with her still holding her own leash.

Wendy was resting on Grandpa Joe and the boys on the floor. "Where's Mary?"

George asked his father-in-law. "She went looking for you," he answered and summoned the dog to him with the pat on the leg. Before George could give his warning of the dog's aggressive nature, Nana tiptoed past the children and to Grandpa Joe. There she took rest on the floor, and Grandpa Joe patted her head and coat. "Excellent choice, George, Mary Elizabeth will be pleased and the children absolutely overjoyed. They may even throw you parade George, for you found the finest dog in all of London."

"Wonderful, I have the finest wife, the finest mother to my children, the finest children, the finest chef and housekeep and now the finest dog in all of London," George thought to himself, taking a seat exhausted and out of breathe on the chair.

Grandpa Joe shot him a look, and he was up and out the door again looking for Mary, Nana in hot pursuit behind him.

Mary walked all the way to the bank and then to the pet shop. Both of course were closed, and she peeked in through the windows with worry. From there she went to the park. She checked alleyways and side streets. She began to panic, finding no sign of George anywhere, and cried as she ran down street shouting his name.

A constable on patrol found her and took her home, "Don't worry, Mrs. Darling, we will look for your husband. It's not safe for you to be roaming the streets this late."

Mary arrived at home after midnight, George have gone looking for her over an hour before. "Why did you not keep him here? The constable told me it is not safe to be out roaming the streets this late at night with all the drunks and prostitutes already out on the corners. The new neighbors down the block told me only yesterday to watch over my children closely when playing outside for they lost a son. Father, their poor little infant boy went missing and was never found!"

"George is a grown man Mary Elizabeth, not a child who gets abducted in the night. He took the dog with him, and if anyone tried to even speak with him on the street, I do believe that fine animal would bite them right on the..." Grandpa Joe retorted as he helped Mary carry the children to bed, and then went out himself on Mary's insistence to find George.

Instead of screaming George's name like Mary had, Grandpa Joe called for Nana. A short while later, Nana and George came running down the street of their home, with the police in chase. The constable nodded to George and the dog at their door, and gave Nana a treat -- the leftovers of his supper. She walked into the house as if she owned it and left George outside with a baffled expression. Grandpa Joe helped him up the stairs into the foyer and reiterated, "What a marvelous pet, and so obedient. Good choice George, the children will love her."

Mary was sitting on the sofa dressed for bed with her tea waiting, with Nana's head lying quite comfortably in her lap. "Oh George, thank you, she's perfect."

George nodded his appreciation of her thanks, and without another word, ascended the stairs without his supper and went to bathe. Mary followed, leaving Grandpa Joe with Nana, who, for that night at least, stayed in his room on a soft and comfy blanket, the best Grandpa Joe had to offer.

Mary gently tapped on the door to the bath, where George was submerged in water soaking his worn out muscles and inquired if he had eaten. "No, but I'm not hungry." He rose and wrapped a towel around his waist and moved to their room, bumping past her in the hall.

She gazed at his bare chest glistening with the bath water still fresh on it and watched as he removed his towel showing the length the his toned legs and firm buttocks. There was no finer specimen of man in the entire world, at least to Mary, for George was her Adonis. He had not one blemish nor scar on his body, with the exception of solitary pockmark on his upper right hand cheek from an illness he had contracted as an infant. He was, especially when exposed to her eyes, perfection in the flesh.

It had been a very long time since they had made love, years in fact.

Eight long years of wanting, waiting and longing.

Mary was not sure if George feared she could still get pregnant (even though the surgeon had stripped her inside) or that the scar the surgeon left on her sickened her husband to impotency. She could count on one hand how many times since Michael was born they engaged in the pleasure they once would have sworn they could not live without. And so Mary would count often on her one hand and found she still had two fingers left.

It was not for lack of trying. George would give her a reason that he was tired or not in the mood. But she saw it in his face, always the same when she removed her dress and undergarments when she changed for bed. It was the same face of repulsion she saw when the surgeon removed her bandages and showed George the damage. Had she not had a stubborn streak, she would of given up long ago, but she loved George, all of George. And unlike her husband, would not so easily accept defeat.

There had been three times since Michael was born that George and Mary enjoyed the privacy of their marriage. The first was that Christmas when Wendy went missing, hiding in her parent's closet. The second was a year or so after that when George got a raise at work. The third had been three years ago when George's oldest brother Peter finally got married to a widow not much younger than Mary. Each time the events of the evening were identical. George was drunk, it was over quickly, without any concern for Mary's readiness or completion and it was in the position Mary cared for least. She found herself on her knees with George entering from behind, holding her at her waist. He never wanted to look at her naked and insisted she not remove her clothes while they were in the act. "Just lift your gown Mary, you can undress when I'm finished." George took her, and moved her flat to the bed helping her raise her attire just enough to expose her undergarments, never removing them, just shifting them to side out of the way to gain access. With a firm grip he would lift her to her knees and plow into her too fast for her to feel anything else but him banging into her backside with his pelvis.

That is what their lovemaking had become at least for those three times in the eight years. All the other days and nights that past those eight years were the same, Mary doing her best to remind her husband of what it once was to unlock her and enter heaven, and George declining his wife with his feet firmly planted on Earth.

And so, this night was no different. Mary wrapped her arms around her husband and told him how handsome he was. "You should stroll around our bedroom bare as the day you were born more often my love." She wanted to give him a kiss on his lips, but settled for his neck as he swiftly covered the parts of him showing. "Please don't cover up for me George, I love to gaze at your body. I find it amazing that after all these years you still have the physique of a young man fresh in the world," Mary continued to kiss his neck and now rubbed his chest, he absentmindedly putting on his pajama top and bottoms as she glided her hands over his body to his member, which remained flaccid and not the least bit stimulated by her advances.

George patted her on her arms and removed her grip from his manhood, speaking matter-of-factly oblivious to her seduction, "To bed with the both of us Mary, tomorrow is Saturday and I have loads to do." First he yawned, false, to show how tired his was and pushed past her to his side of the bed, giving her a peck on the cheek before climbing under the blankets.

Mary stood in the place George had just left from without moving, hugging herself, at a complete loss for affection from her husband.

"You look very pretty in that nightgown Mary, is it new? I'll expect to see a bill from the department store then, now come to bed." Mary didn't reply, the nightgown she wore was from their wedding night, but she did come to bed and as he drifted off to sleep, she slipped out and went to the kitchen where she stayed all night awake.

George got up at dawn and noticed her absence next to him. He went down to the kitchen and found her reading at the table with a fresh kettle of tea brewing on the stove, "Would you like a cup of tea George?" she asked. He nodded, and she served him tea with a crumpet, warm from the oven.

He ate his crumpet and drank his tea and watched her read. The silence between them was not only uncomfortable but also unbearable and George felt he should say something, so he complimented her muffins. "Thank you George." Next he complimented her housework, "You keep things so tidy and neat, I don't think I have found one speck of dust on anything in years, dearest, and everything is always in its place, nothing ever to be found cluttered or lying about. However do you find the time?" She did not look up from her book and only responded, "Thank you George." It was obvious she was not listening to a word he said when he asked her what she had planned for the morning, "Thank you, George, more tea?"

Mary hardly slept at night anymore. In the morning, with George off to work and the children at school, she would clean the breakfast plates and straighten the house. Everything had its place and nothing was cluttered. There was never a mess, so nothing needed to be cleaned any longer than a few moments. With the house in order she would lay fully dressed, complete with her shoes and nap for a few short hours. On the weekends, with George relaxing with Grandpa Joe and the children in the nursery playing, she would retire to their room and sleep all afternoon.

George would wander up the stairs and peek in on her. She was always completely attired lying out above the blankets resting peacefully. She often looked as if she fainted and fell on the bed that way, one arm over her stomach the other raised to her head as she lay on her back, not moving. The moment George took one step forward into the room, or the children called for her, she would wake up, shaking her head ridding it of the cobwebs of sleep. "What is it George?" she then asked. He would have no good explanation of his presence disturbing her slumber, aside from the fact that he missed her company desperately, so he would make up a silly reason he needed her aid. Mary would get up without question and complete the task only to go back to bed until it was time to make supper. George often wondered while at work what she did by herself in the darkness of night. Mostly she sat at the kitchen table with her tea and waited till morning.

Mary was still beautiful; her figure was slim, at the same time shapely, full of womanly curves in all the right places. George would often blush when other men complimented him on his good fortune to have a woman so well endowed. If George had a penny for every time one of his colleagues, business associates or friends told him, "Oh George, if she were my wife..." he would already be a rich man. Mary had always kept her hair long, but never left it down. It sat atop her head in a neatly placed bun. Even when they dressed to go out, which was not often, she still fixed it in the same manner, only meticulously curling the stands that fell loose to accentuate her lovely face. In former days, when they engaged in passion, one of George's favorite things to experience was the simple undertaking of removing the pin that held her hair in place, letting her locks fall down her back and hang free. Now, only when she bathed did she let it down to brush it out, without any help from George. All the compliments from friends and family – even their children -- and only George and Mary (and the doctor) knew of the gruesome mutilation that hid under her pretty dresses and pleasing form.

George got up from the table and stood looking out into the rest of the house. "Mary, I want to show you something," he commanded, reaching for her hand. She put down her book and followed him up the stairs to their room. Once inside her showed her the curtains that hung on the window. "Do you like these curtains?" he asked with his hand on his chin.

"They're fine, George," she answered unsure of his inquiry.

"I was thinking, perhaps we should get new ones, these have hung here as long as we've been in this room. Yes, buy new ones, blue. Yes, and they should be blue," he instructed, watching her expression.

"Alright George, I will purchase new blue curtains, although there is nothing wrong with these, I only just washed them yesterday, and they are blue as well. But if you insist on new all I need to know is how much should I spend?"

George gave it some thought and then told her he would come along on the shopping trip, "and we shall bring the children, a lovely family adventure to the emporium. The children always love to go there. But best not bring their new pet; department stores do not like pets running about. We shall then go to the toy store and buy the children some new games; they often complain to your father that they only receive toys on their birthdays and the holidays. Why make them wait, Mary? Yes we will buy each of the children a new toy. And while we are at it, you should buy a new nightgown as well, the one you are wearing is so old, was not the one from when we were first married, Mary? Yes, you need some new night clothes to sleep in, warmer ones, nothing silk, Mary..."

Since George could not give her what he knew she wanted, he tried to appease her by spending money on her and the children. He had hoped she would smile at his suggestion, but she only agreed, and removed her robe, sitting on the bed. George remained standing rambling suggestions of all the other things in their home that ought to be replaced and made anew. Mary only held her eyes to the curtains, for she loved the pattern. She chose them herself when she was eighteen.

George gazed down at Mary waiting for her to answer a question she didn't hear him ask. "Well, Mary, what do you think?"

Mary thought and answered, "I think the blue curtains will be just fine, no need to buy the children toys, they complain to my father that they only receive sweets and candy on the holidays and at no other time during the year because I told them it would rot their teeth and treats are just that, treats. I would love some new nightgowns as all the ones I own are too revealing for married woman with three children."

George sat and glanced to his wife seeing her somber expression and proceeded to remove his pajamas. "Take off your nightgown, Mary."

She went wide eyed and willingly complied, flirting with him as she untied the straps and let them and the silk fall from her body to the floor. She kept her back to George, watching him as she glided back to the bed and sat down, hiding from him her abdomen. Mary was at that moment the only one willing, for George could not get an erection, even as Mary stroked and licked him with her tongue. His excuse, "I have to use the necessary before we start," as he tapped her head to gain her attention from her work, leaving Mary lying on her back in bed alone.

Mary could stand the waiting no more when he was gone to the washroom for almost an hour and rolled on her stomach. George entered the room and laid beside her, "Lock the door, Mary," he whispered. Mary turned to see it in his eyes now that she could feel him against her leg. Not wanting to miss a moment, she moved to her back and pulled him on top of her kissing his neck and face. He rotated her to her stomach and then pulled her up at the waist, but she resisted and returned to her back. "This way, George, like we used to." She spoke softly. He closed his eyes as she moved beneath him, which filled her eyes with tears, and entered her quickly covering them both completely with the blanket.

Suddenly, Mary was back to the first time with George, the time she lost her virginity. The emotion of that night, the disappointment and feeling cheated, that she was missing something just beyond her reach filled her. But unlike that time when she didn't know what lay hidden behind the door, this time she was totally aware. She had been there already and seen the wonder and adventure found within. She felt him rut in and out, in and out, in and out. She no longer had a lock to open. Now she had a gaping hole that lead straight to her soul. George directed his spear, no longer a special key, into her abyss and cut and sliced away the delicate layers of her spirit. He left multiple scars on her heart, which broke and bled more as he pounded into her. He jerked his completion and rolled off as if she was not even there, rising and putting on the pajama bottoms. "A hole in the mattress, a whore would have been cheaper," replayed in her mind. Mary got up, feeling she would have been better off without the experience, and then when she was sure she could not feel any worse, Wendy screamed.

George was angry; Wendy had been snooping after being told repeatedly their parent's room was private and off limits. "Now she has seen me, a grown man, naked, Mary, I told you to lock the door," he snarled to her as they raced to get dressed. Mary assured him it was herself that Wendy saw naked, and then muttered back, "At least she is honest enough to scream her disgust at me," as she took her leave of him.

George was confused by the comment, he had his own reasons for not wanting Mary in that way, and they were none of what she thought. He trailed her as she went to the nursery, and listened quite bewildered at her fury when she ordered him to take the boys down to their breakfasts when she was done consoling them.

Mary knew making love to the man who was the perfect match was a wonderful and breathtaking event for a woman. She never wanted her daughter to feel any differently. She never wanted Wendy to feel cheated, or think of the sacred act as a chore or bother. When the time came, and Wendy was a woman, she would explain exactly what her daughter would need to know, combining everything her mother, her best friend, and she knew in a way that would make Wendy understand her meaning. She just didn't want to have to do it that morning. But Wendy saw nothing but the visible scar on her mother, giving Mary only mild relief of her burden. She would leave the scars hidden on her heart locked up tightly till another day.


	14. Chapter 14 The Mind of Mr Darling

Rated R - Sexual Content

My Darling Love

Chapter 14 – The Mind of Mr. Darling

"_No mind, however loving, could bear to see plainly into all the recess of another mind."_

_-Thomas A. Bennet_

Mary's comment to George that morning bothered him all day. It bothered him while the family ate breakfast; it bothered him while they shopped in the emporium for new curtains. It bothered him while the children played in the park with their new nurse, the dog named Nana. Just when he thought he finally put it out of his mind, he would look at Mary and see her expression and the comment, "At least she is honest enough to scream her disgust at me," would play again in his ears. It still bothered him after arriving home that evening, later at dinner, and as he sat in the kitchen and read the paper while she did the dishes. Mary went upstairs with the children, and George, still bothered, sat by Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent in the parlor and stared the blazing logs in the fireplace.

"Why the perturbed face, George?" Aunt Millicent asked, looking up from her romance novel. He did not answer, for his mind was elsewhere, and Aunt Millicent turned to Grandpa Joe who assured her with a shake of his head to leave well enough alone.

The noises of three children at play with a giant dog could be heard overhead. They would run from nursery to the bath and then back to the nursery. The pitter-patter of little feet followed by the loud thumping of heavy paws creaked the floorboards. George listened to Wendy pout as Mary combed the knots from her hair. "Be still my love, just one more." Then he heard the boys calling each other silly names and once again Mary's voice echoed down to them "Mocking one another is not nice boys, words hurt."

Words hurt indeed. The night Mary gave birth to Michael, George's entire life changed. His once vibrant and strong wife was rendered helpless, and could do no more than lay lifeless, without the strength to raise her head. She had no voice to moan in agony, only able to whimper, "It hurts George, help me..."

That awful night Mary gave life to the last child ever to be born of them, George asked her where she felt the pain, and she did not answer, only telling him she wet herself again. Mary apologized for messing their bed as George removed the blanket covering her and saw it was not urine but blood that drained from her. She was no longer warm to the touch, but cold as ice. As much blood saturated the mattress, the same amount of sweat drenched the sheets.

"Her only hope is the hospital, like the doctor said," George told his father-in-law, so he sent for a cab and carried her down the stairs wrapped in her father's blanket, as there was not another one clean in the house.

Her breathing was labored, and her bleeding continued. By the time they reached the hospital, more blood had soaked through the blanket onto George's clothes, and he, too, was covered in her blood. "We will have to cut her open to find where the tear is," the doctor told George that night. "Surgery is very risky, considering infection and such. But she will die without it." George had to make a choice that moment. Without surgery, she would die, no question. With surgery she might die, some question. With the second option, she would have a chance, so he agreed.

They operated all night, and she was sedated for a week after. The surgeon did not feel good about her outcome for a multitude of reasons. "She has lost an enormous amount of blood, she is running a fever, her wound from the incision is infected, and she is unresponsive. If I were you, Mr. Darling, I would begin to make arrangements with the undertaker and for the care of your children, especially for the newborn, as your wife is unable to nurse him."

The nurse on duty suggested that George read to Mary, so he did. He also sat at her bedside in silence and held her hand. He cried rivers of tears, wondering faintly if he could fill an ocean and sail back to the moment he implanted his seed inside of her. The one thing he did not do was calculate the expense. Every time someone would tell him the cost of a procedure Mary needed to get better, he gave his consent without batting an eye. "It doesn't matter, whatever she needs I'm good for it, I can give the payment this very day if you want, in cash."

Finally, she awoke, but was too frail and in too much pain to speak. She wept endlessly at the throbbing, and begged George to take it away. "Please George, take away the hurting, make it stop." To make matters worse, she beseeched him to take her home, something impossible for him to do. She broke his heart in several different places as she pleaded, "Please George, take me home, I want to die at home. Please George, make it stop, take the pain away, take me home, please..."

They gave her pain medications that made her hallucinate, she scratched her arms till they bled claiming that there were bugs crawling on her. Fearing Mary would go mad, they restrained her on the bed, which only made her wail in anguish. "Why George? Why? Please help me George, let me go. Please George untie me, help me." When the delusions ended, she would stare at George with cloudy eyes and slur her words making no sense. When he had to leave, she would clutch to him and plead, "Plesh thont ho forge. Fake em it ou."

He knew what she said and assured her of his return showing her the clock on the wall and the where the hands would be when he came back. He gathered his courage, hoping some would rub off on her, and offered a weak smile that went along with. "As soon as you're better, Mary, you can come home, and that will be any day now. Now you just rest up. I love you Mary."

This is how it went when Michael was newly born. This is what George's days were like. He worked full time at the bank, full time at the hospital and full time at home with the children. He would come home late at night after everyone retired and slowly climb the stairs to the empty bed that awaited him. Had he not been exhausted and starved, he would never have slept. But he did sleep, though for only three hours at a time when he awoke to start to whole process over again.

Within a few weeks he found it necessary to alter his schedule again. Grandpa Joe suggested that he spend more time with the children, "When everything runs right in this house, they only see you for an hour at supper. With their mother gone, sick at the hospital, you are their only parent. George, if Mary dies, YOU WILL BE the only parent and have to raise them all alone. I saw Mary Elizabeth yesterday, and you'd best prepare yourself for that."

George had hired a nanny and wet nurse to care after the newborn, who evidently cared not for his other children. "She's fine when dealing with Michael, but gets overwhelmed with John and Wendy dancing around her for attention. She may feed Michael, but she isn't much good for anything else. You will need to hire another nanny for the children. Dismiss this one George, she is worthless and her services are very expensive. And George, if I were you I would put an add in the paper today." George knew his father-in-law was correct, he had seen the nurse's horrid disposition to John and Wendy, himself. But he would not bring yet another unfamiliar woman into his home to raise his children, not as long as Mary's heart still beat. Thus he declared, "I will release the Nanny this very evening. You will have to look after the children during the day. I will ask the neighbor to help you. She just told me yesterday, Michael can be fed by bottle, and that is what we will do. In the evening, I will look after them."

Now, George was required by his duty as their father and sole parent to give his children more time. Mary cried, the children cried and so did he. Every single night, he knelt by his bedside and wept, he prayed through the tears on his sheets and begged God not to leave his children without their mother, nor leave him without his wife.

God listened to George; just like he listened to Mary, and weeks later she was released from the hospital. He remembered the doctor telling him, "Mr. Darling, I know how much you want to get her home, but it will be just as bad there. Remember, she still has her stitches and they need to be removed by a physician. I can understand your children miss her, but I would reconsider you taking her from this hell and purposely making another one in your home that your children will see."

Having his wife back home would relieve some his stress of running from this place to that. He remembered that he, George, would have left her there and kept at his frenetic pace, but one day, the nurse pulled him aside. "The longer she stays here, the more likely it is she will contract another illness, one unrelated to what afflicts her now, Mr. Darling. She is strong enough at times now, so you take her home."

He remembered how the next moment, he had his coat and hat on, and was dressing Mary in her traveling clothes. Mary was still under the influence of massive doses of morphine and laudanum, as much as the physician dared give her. George carried his wife home.

He remembered how she thought he was her father and asked to be brought to the park so she could play. "It is a lovely day, cannot I not go on the swings?" When the children greeted her, she had no idea who they were. And as Peter carried her up the stairs she inquired, "Who were those little people, George?"

Years later, Mary remembered none of that, but George remembered it all.

He remembered holding her down while the doctor came to their home to remove her stitches. He remembered how she bit his hand when he covered her mouth to keep her from screaming while one by one they were cut and pulled from her body. He remembered the wreck she was when it was over.

He remembered the infection that followed and how she was bedridden and could not control her bladder or her bowels. She begged him to smother her with a pillow. She begged him to strangle her to death. She begged and pleaded with him to loosen the ropes he had tied her hands to the bed with to keep her from scratching the scabs that had formed over her incisions. When he faltered and did as she asked, she punched him in the face and broke his glasses, calling him nasty names, for, under medication, she was unaware of who he was. She pulled clumps of hair from her own head, and would bang her head against the tub when he would bathe her for the pain of her recovery was unbearable to experience, let alone to watch.

Through all of this, no one else knew what transpired -- only George and Grandpa Joe. George would only let the children visit with their mother when she promised to be good and not frighten them with her behavior. George would give her the medicine to alleviate her torture and then wait until she was barely conscious before he called for the children. Mary would stare and try to keep her wits about her and her eyes open while Wendy would dance about the room telling stories.

Sometimes Mary had enough sense about her to respond, but mostly when asked a question, she would answer, "Ask Grandpa Joe." And Grandpa Joe would answer for her, waiting in the doorway, making sure Mary did nothing to cause concern with the children. George would nap, but have his internal clock timed perfectly to the point when Mary would begin to twitch. He would enter their room and direct the children out, even if they implored him for permission to stay. Of course they couldn't stay, for Mary's condition only got worse from the medicine and she would drool and shake uncontrollably. Thinking George wanted their mother all to himself, they silently protested and informed Grandpa Joe, "I hate my father."

He remembered that little by little Mary got better. Little by little, George and Grandpa Joe weaned her off the morphine and laudanum. She was able to sit up, and then stand, and then walk. She still needed to sleep most hours of the day, but she was alive and getting better. and that was all that ever mattered to George. When before she would have to ask who her children were, she now remembered their names and asked for them. She beseeched George never to leave her, but he had to work, so he would carry downstairs to the chair nearest the window and rest her there. She would eagerly wait for him to return, and once home, he would carry her back to bed. And then in the solitude of their room, he would need to reiterate that he would never leave her, his wife, for the rest of her life. "I have to go to work Mary so we can afford to live, but no, Mary, I will never leave you. I know you are weak and in a great deal of pain, and I understand. Please do not tell me you are not the woman you once were, for soon you will get better and everything will be as it once was."

The surgical incisions healed completely, as did her mind. Memories still escaped her -- the night Michael was born, being in the hospital, her first month back home. To George, it was as if her soul had left her body the moment Michael was taken from her womb and returned to her sometime that autumn. Mary had no recollections of how the scar got there, she just knew it was there. George never wanted to explain what had happened, happy to be able to save her further torment in that way.

George always felt everything that had happened to Mary was his fault. Had he not been careless with her that night, she would have never gotten pregnant again. She told him not to complete himself inside of her, as she had not been keeping track of when and when it was not safe. But in the heat of the moment, he forgot her warning and proceeded with loving enthusiasm. After once, and then twice, he felt 'what would it matter a third?' But the third did matter, for as fertile as his seed was in her empty garden freshly tilled, they were lucky it was not two babies in bloom as opposed to the one.

Furthermore, had George said no to the surgery, she would have died peacefully that night, in her sleep, and would be at rest with her heart intact. Mary's own father tried to keep her from the hospital, "George, let Mary Elizabeth bleed out in bed, she'll grow tired and go to sleep, painlessly dying in her slumber. She is so close to the end now, she already complains of being cold – the slumber will come next, and then she will be freed to heaven. If you take her to the hospital the surgeons will cut into her like savages, they won't even know what they are looking for, and she will be mutilated when she's buried."

But George was greedy, and felt he needed her more than God did. Without thinking of what his actions would cost, he took what he wanted, because he wanted her more than anything else. He cast himself as the pirate captain in Wendy's stories without the brave knight to save the day. He wanted the kiss of the princess, he wanted to sail away on the ship into the sunset and live the happily ever after.

"George, stop blaming yourself for everything." Grandpa Joe puffed from his pipe. Aunt Millicent was snoring on her chair with her head back and her mouth wide open.

"She hates me." George replied, his mind returning to the Darling residence.

"No she doesn't. She is just mindful of her appearance, like all women."

That was exactly what she mindful of. Mary believed she was a horrid monster when naked. She had never seen a mark like the one left upon her abdomen. The first time she saw it she screamed herself, fainting at the sight of the disfiguration she was to be left her entire life with. The nurse's reassurances, "In time it will fade, Mary, and be less noticeable," did not help her, nor her deep-rooted feelings of the ugliness branding her.

George told her it didn't bother him, and she assumed he told her the truth, and he had. It made absolutely no difference to him at all. He loved all her parts, and thought every single freckle, scar and discoloration on her body was lovely and fair.

So what had sent her mind in the other direction -- that George had instead lied and really detested her exterior? George fathomed it was the night Wendy went missing. Up until that time, he had never even dreamed of making love to Mary again. As many stitches held her belly and what was left of her insides together, there were just as many stitches mending her womanhood. She never mentioned it, and he was just as happy to pleasure himself in the bath alone than bother her.

But that night, with a little too much to drink they kissed in the hall. He could not control his urge to feel her naked breasts as it had been so long since she had let him touch her. He pushed down her dress and grasped at them. She apparently had the same idea and began rubbing his member through the open zipper of his trousers. Filled with fear that she was not healed enough with the memory of carrying her home from church the night before, he pulled away from her abruptly, ripping her dress. "I'm sorry Mary," he slurred seeing the damage to the gown he had paid a fortune for, and quickly escaped back into the party to hide from her, ashamed to have been so forward, knowing her condition.

Christmas night, when they retired to bed after their guests left, Mary created the first of three situations he would have hoped to avoid. They lay in bed and she began caressing him, and licking his ear and neck, "Kiss me, George, make love to me..." It had been a long time since he felt the real thing so he obliged, thinking she would know best if she were ready.

As he climbed on top of her and began, slow and well paced as she liked, she told him it hurt. It was not the pain from her mending, for she was healed, it was the pain of not being prepared for his entry. Instead of a long foreplay, which normally preceded their lovemaking, George had eagerly jumped on top of her and began to push in. Terrified, he removed himself from her and apologized. He sobered quickly but Mary was still under the influence, and kept on rubbing the part of him that was throbbing with want.

"Please, George, now, I'm ready now," she groaned still licking his ear moving his hands over her breasts. And she was ready, but with no other ideas and at a complete loss of self-control, he flipped her on her knees and quickly finished to satisfy his urge as well as shorten her pain.

He felt guilty afterwards, just like he had on the night he took her virginity, hearing her weep when he was done. George was not only distressed that she felt nothing but the physical loss of her virtue as he walked in heaven but also a great amount of agony as his thrusted upon the parts of her that had been ripped and damaged in childbirth. That night, Christmas night, years ago, George consoled himself by deciding to never attempt to consummate with her again, and banished the idea of gratifying himself alone as punishment for all she had endured giving his son life.

The night he got a raise at work, the same interaction had happened. It began the way she liked, but once she acknowledged that his weight was heavy upon her and her womanhood stung as he thrust, he rolled off and once again apologized. But Mary insisted he go on, for she knew if they never made love, it would always hurt. She knew they needed to get past the part of her that had tensed from not being used as God intended. For Mary, it would be like losing her virginity all over again, but with the reward that once they resumed a normal intimate exchange, her womanhood would relax and accept him willingly and easily without pain.

"You must finish, George, as reward for hard work and accomplishments," Mary teased, hoping to begin again where they left off. George raised her on her knees and pushed into her only three more times before faking his completion. Mary wanted to continue, and so George lied and said he felt ill from all the wine at dinner. He was too drunk on scotch the night of his brother's wedding to call to mind the specific events although he was positive by her expression the next morning it was a repeat performance for him.

George wanted to tell Mary his private emotions and fears, but the simple fact of the matter was, he had not even the slightest inkling of how to communicate them into words. Mary, his trusting wife, would not dare speak on the matter for fear of insulting not only his heart but his manly ego as well. If he had his reasons and didn't want to share them, they must be as she thought, 'he thinks me a beast when in the nude.' Therefore, George no longer looked forward to making love with Mary or chased after it. And they both silently accepted that it was a part of their marriage that was broken and could not be fixed.

That silence was only to be held by George eventually, for Mary was stubborn. Soon enough she began hounding him. "Please George, I really want to. It's been so long for us? Don't you miss me in that way as much as I miss you?" He gathered his courage three times in eight years and took her as briefly as possible, making sure she would not hurt or be sore, rushing to his finish. He got no pleasure from it at all, only the relief that it was over.

He saw her naked from the bath and in her frilly nightgowns and even cooking by the stove experiencing the excitement that came when a man wanted to seduce his wife. But after a great deal of time, he learned control his desire, and could shut it off. He thought of the bills that needed to be paid, or his supervisor at work glaring at him when Mary ran her hand down his bare body. There were many nights, after the house was asleep and Mary was already in the kitchen with her tea that George tiptoed to the bathroom and did his handiwork while imagining himself inside Mary enjoying the most intimate recesses of her womanly figure. It left him consumed in guilt when he was finished for Mary did not have that luxury.

But Mary did have that luxury, she knew the part of her body that George stroked with his tongue that made her tingle, and rubbed it with her own fingers at times of utter need for contact with him. She dreamed it was him between her legs moving and shifting above her, filling her completely. That is why she napped with her clothes on, to squash the urge to experience the bliss that came when she did. If George was not being satisfied in that way, well neither should she, Mary reasoned. Not everyday, although some days, after the children went to school and the housework was done, with Grandpa Joe in the parlor puffing on his pipe, Mary went to her room and thought of George in that way, and it gave her mild relief of the tension, but saturated her soul with the loss of him, now never truly with her in their passions.

That morning, the morning of his reward for his service in obtaining the finest pet in all of London, she told him "this way" and he closed his eyes. George did everything he could think of to avoid the situation. The scoff the night before killed him, as she ran her hand over his chest and tempted him, he bit his tongue so hard he drew blood, fighting the itch to lift her off her feet right then and there to throw her on the bed and ravish her body. He had to excuse himself to the bathroom the next day, in order to stare at his reflection in the mirror to banish the vision he had of his mother imprinted in his mind that kept him from getting hard. It was his last defense to hold back an erection as his wife moved the soft warm wetness of her tongue over him, Mrs. Frederick Darling jeered at him in his mind and called a pervert, "Your father told me only women of loose virtue pleasure men that way, and only perverts enjoy it." He had no choice but to leave in order to clear his thoughts.

Once he returned to their bedroom, he could tell by looking at his wife, he would either have to make love to her or make up a very good excuse at his delay on the matter. Mary rolled on her stomach, and closed her eyes, knowing by his remorseful expression, he was to get dressed and flee. Thus she could seize the opportunity for some much needed undisturbed sleep, at least until the children awoke. George believed she was tired of him and his endless put offs of her affections. She was and that is why she stayed awake all hours of the night drinking tea in the kitchen.

But poor George was never good at reading any woman's mind, let alone his own wife's. To him, as he stood in the doorway, he could see it, plain as day. Mary, his beloved, saw him enter without those desires to be loved in their bed, rolled her eyes and rolled on her stomach. Now, what was he to do? He had worked himself up by hand in the bathroom, and was wanting for it. So he seized the moment, seeing her already in position to be taken and ask her kindly to lock the door, giving himself another few stolen moments to keep the thought of his mother out of his head.

Mary didn't lock the door, not did she want to be taken from behind. She rolled back over and pulled George with her. It always took him longer when he was on top and Mary knew that, so he moved her to her knees once again. Mary was intent to be beneath him, wanting to talk to him as they made love and ensure him of pleasures long lost could be easily resurrected. She wanted to gaze upon his beautiful angelic blue eyes, she wanted to kiss him, nibble on his ear and keep the fire of their passions burning as long as she could. George obliged politely and remained above her, but closed his eyes and his ears.

This reinforced Mary's fear that he did it as so not to have to look at her. He apparently did not want to listen to her either, for she said, "Please George look at me," and he didn't. But not because of the scar, because he knew Mary was to be in pain and he could not bear to watch anymore of the agony and grief he bestowed upon her in his weakness as a man. He hid the tears that filled his eyes and buried his head in the pillow, never hearing her request. He was already half there by his own measures and it was over in a less than a minute. He courteously rolled off of her to give her relief of his weight, still silently speaking that he did not want to even cuddle with her. He said nothing for he hated himself, and then Wendy screamed and Mary spoke her comment causing George to hate himself more.

"Listen, son." (Grandpa Joe had gotten into the habit of calling George "son" and did it often when they spoke, but it still caught George a little off guard.) "Listen, son, Mary doesn't think you find her attractive anymore, and that's why you haven't been smiling in the morning. And son, women know the pain of giving birth, but as we don't know exactly how they feel when it's happening, they don't know how we feel when it's happening either. Understand?" Grandpa Joe had a way with words and he said what he meant without saying it.

George watched his father-in-law, thinking. It took him a moment, but he got what he meant without hearing it. He sat up and pushed out his chest, the comment that had bothered him all day, "at least she is honest enough to scream her disgust at me," was to be banished from his castle. George was honest enough to scream at his disgust, and so he would. The children were in bed, and now Mary returned downstairs to the kitchen to feed Nana the leftover scraps from supper and George, seeing her dreary face, was ready.

"Sir, I think you are correct. I understand the pain of a man giving birth and I think it is high time I explain it to my wife!" George declared to his father-in-law, rising from his chair in the parlor. Grandpa Joe watched him head off to the kitchen on Mary's apron strings and chuckled, shaking his head.

George stalked in the kitchen with his hands of his hips and held an angry glare on his face. "MARY." He shouted to gain her attention from the dog, drooling at Mary's feet for her dinner. Surprised by his volume, she dropped Nana's dish. Poor Nana was starving and began to bark at both George and Mary. Her loud howls would not stop George who continued on at Mary with, "I AM VERY DISGUSTED WITH YOU MARY ELIZABETH DARLING!"

Not his finest sentiment from the sight of Mary and the constant noise of Nana's "WOOF" but he said it just the same. "Well George, I don't know what to say." Mary spoke in a soft tone, now she knew the truth, and just as she told her sons, words hurt.

Still shouting at the top of his lungs, George grabbed Mary's shoulders and yelled on, "I LOVE YOU, MARY, AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE THINKING BY TELLING ME I'M NOT HONEST!"

Mary was wide eyed at his display. Grandpa Joe, hearing George's ranting, also rose from his chair in the parlor and was now standing in the doorway of the kitchen. It made him laugh to see George employing such a forceful manner.

"I don't recall telling you to be honest George, I would never think you a liar." Mary's voice was calm and she stood like a child being reprimanded afraid to move.

"YOU TOLD ME THIS MORNING I WAS NOT HONEST, MARY."

"Alright George, no need to carry on that way. You will wake the children." Aunt Millicent had awoken, and she raced to the kitchen, shushing his behavior.

"AND THE NEIGHBORS! YES, I SHALL WAKE THE NEIGHBORS!" George yelled back at wide-eyed at Millicent.

"Yes George, and the neighbors..." Aunt Millicent concurred peeking out the windows.

"I WANT THE NEIGHBORS TO HEAR!" He opened the back door and stood outside in the pouring rain. "I AM GOING UPSTAIRS TO MAKE LOVE TO MY WIFE BECAUSE SHE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL LADY IN ALL OF LONDON!"

"GEORGE!" Now it was Mary and Aunt Millicent yelling in unison. Aunt Millicent fainted, and Grandpa Joe laughed loudly.

George picked Mary up in one swift motion, and carried her from the kitchen to the stairs. Up the stairs and to their bedchamber, he locked the door with her still in his arms and plopped her down on the bed.

Once alone he shook his finger at her with an authoritative tone, "Mary Darling, I think you are just as beautiful as the day I met you. I've told you a million times that I don't care if your chin falls off your face and you go bald, I will still love you and want to make love to you."

He paced back and forth and then stopped abruptly, his voice was already choking back the anguish he felt within, "Women are not the only ones to have babies, Mary. Men have them, too. They experience all the pleasure in putting life into their wives, and that is where it ends. For months a man watches his wife grow round in the waist and be sick to her stomach and exhausted, scratching because her skin itches from stretching so, not being able to get up from the chair, waddling around the house as if any moment her back will break from the added weight on her delicate frame. And the man knows he is the reason that she's in that way.

"And then the pain begins, and the baby has to be born, and the woman alone has to do it. And the only thing the man can to do, being the one who made his wife endure all that, is nothing, but know that he is the cause. Mary Elizabeth, you cannot imagine how difficult it is to see someone whose life you value more than your own in that much agony while you stand there without even a headache.

"And for you, the nightmare did not end with Michael's birth. It continued for months, and through everything, I was as healthy and strong as the day we met. You endured it all, you have the scars, and you had pain and illnesses because I was careless when I should have been careful. Eight years after all that, you are still hurting from it and I am still watching. I don't make love to you, my darling, because I can't watch anymore, and I know that just proves I am weak and a coward. I sorry for being a such a selfish husband..."

Mary shushed him as she pulled him down to sit beside her. "George, I don't think you are selfish or weak or a coward. I just want you, I need you, I love you and I can't let what happened with Michael affect the rest of our life. I feel cheated. Because of his birth and all the distress, I lost my husband and lover. I need what's broken to be fixed and you are only man that can fix it," she told him.

"Does it hurt when we...you know..."

She knew and replied, "I don't know, George. It's been so long since we did it the way we used to. If it hurts, it's only because it's been so long, and I'm sure its nothing more than my body just not being used to you in that way anymore."

He took her hand and they gazed eye-to-eye. "It is very important to me that you are not in pain. I want you to tell me if it hurts, because I won't enjoy it if it hurts you at all. Do you understand, Mary?"

He still shook his finger at her, and she thought it was quite funny, he being so strict with her. She began to chuckle which made him chuckle.

He sat next to her and clutched her hands to his chest very seriously. "Mary, I could never think you less of a woman because of what happened, I only think myself less of a man for not being able to save you the suffering. I will always try to make your life good, give you a home worthy of you. And I know you want to only to make me happy, but I cannot and will not hurt you just to satisfy my own desires. If making love to me gives you no pleasure, then I deserve no pleasure."

Mary would always have the scar on her belly, but not the scars on her heart, for that night George mended them.

They made love and it hurt somewhat, not because of the damage caused by a baby being born, but because of the years they wasted not making love.

Silence for them had always been golden, but now they agreed they would needs words – words to explain the breaks in their hearts and the worries of their mind. George never told Mary all the terrible things she endured those months after Michael was born, just wanting to forget it. And Mary never told him she read about it in his journal and remembered. That was the only silence ever to be accepted by Mr. and Mrs. George Darling again.

In the morning Mary made a grand feast for breakfast just for her husband, "To help you get your strength back George," Mary teased and George retorted, "Oh yes Mary, I am quite famished."

George smiled at breakfast, at church, where both he and Mary sang their praises to the Lord extra loud, all afternoon and even during supper. Every chance he was presented with, whether in front of his children and father-in-law or not, he wrapped his arms around his wife's waist and whispered flirtatiously in her ear, causing her to give him a wickedly amorous grin.

In the parlor, after desert, Aunt Millicent inquired after his smile, "and Mary Elizabeth, dare I say you are actually glowing! What is going on here?" In front of all gathered, (except the children already in bed) he responded, "Mary and I made mad passionate love all night long and into the morning. It was the greatest experience of my life and I think not only we will do the exact same thing tonight and tomorrow, but also, I shall die with this very smile upon my face."

Aunt Millicent took to her feet and stormed out the door. It was over a month before she returned to the Darling's dinner table. But when she did, George always made sure to wear his grin from ear to ear.


	15. Chapter 15 The Peter of the Past

Rated R – Sexual Content

My Darling Love

Chapter 15 – Peter of the Past

"_To get away from one's working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one's self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change."_

_-Charles Horton Cooley_

It had been four years since Uncle Peter had married a widow Mary's age, and four years since George and Mary had heard from him. Now retired and wealthy, he took his wife around the world traveling, before settling in Paris, France. This was, after all, the most romantic city in the world. Every year, no matter where they were on the globe, George always extended his Christmas invitation to his oldest brother.

Peter never accepted, but sent well wishes in the form of the finest champagne to George, Mary and Grandpa Joe, and gifts to the children and to the family's pet, Nana. Wendy got a fancy dress with matching hat and gloves; the boys got suits, complete with a tie and cuff links. He always sent the children expensive toys, too, a tea set or a doll for Wendy and toy ships and trains for Michael and John. Nana received a bone bigger in size than Michael. Of all the presents to be opened on Christmas Eve, Peter's were the ones they searched for first under the tree. Once opened, the children would dance about and carry on about their "favorite uncle in the whole wide world," and his good taste in knowing "exactly what I wanted."

Quite unexpectedly, a telegram arrived addressed to George one spring afternoon. Mary never opened George's mail, feeling it wrong to read his private correspondence, even after thirteen years of marriage. She waited until he returned from work and greeted him at the door with it, along with a few other incidental bills.

As was his custom, George opened it at his desk in the parlor. The children of the Darling Home were thirteen, eleven and almost nine, and running around madly with Nana in hot pursuit. Each one bumped into their father's chair as he sat, and then preceded to pound away on the piano keys purposely to annoy George, who was deep in thought, scavenging through drawers and pulling out ledgers. Even with all the noise, he paid them no mind. Neither did Aunt Millicent, who held Mary's ear in the kitchen, nor Grandpa Joe, who was explaining how to plant the proper rose bush to the neighbor as they stood in the front hall.

Nana barked, and then began to howl. "Be quiet Nana!" the children shouted repeatedly, trying to get a rise out of George. They always found this trick very funny when he finally lost his patience and began to shout. They found this quite hilarious, in fact, a practical joke Uncle Peter had taught them when they were younger. "Stomp about, children," he would tell them, "until your father tells you to stop. When he does, sit quietly with your hands folded, and tell him you are not making any noise." And so they delighted in doing it constantly to him, leaving George flushed red while shaking his head in utter confusion.

They were sure their father was about to lose his temper, so they lined up in front of him stomping their feet loudly still chanting for Nana to be quiet, for she barked and jumped about them endlessly.

George stood up -- without his frown or flushed face -- and happily shouted, "WE ARE TAKING A HOLIDAY!" By "we" he meant Mary and himself, not the children. But Wendy, John and Michael were unaware of this, and began dancing around him. They never went anywhere except school and to the park, but they all dreamed of a fancy vacation to an exotic foreign land, like the ones in their storybooks. George, finally annoyed by the noise, pushed past the children to Mary, and showed her his oldest brother's letter. "He says we should leave a week from Thursday. We will arrive on Friday and can stay all week, and if we like, even longer."

The children still didn't know whom "we" meant but they knew what a week was, so now they were even happier and encircled their parents in celebration. "A week without school!" they chimed in, and Nana barked her excitement.

"I don't know George, can we afford it?" Mary asked in a raised voice so her husband could hear her over the children.

"It says he will pay the expenses!" he shouted back over the growing volume of happy songs and questions of destination from the children.

"What about your work, George? Children, please be quiet." Mary queried and demanded as she and George leaned their heads together and read the telegram. The children did not be quiet and raced out into the backyard after Nana, who had taken flight with Mary's request.

"I should expect a holiday from the bank," George declared. "The last time I had a day off was Wendy, John and Michael got the measles." That was indeed over five years ago. Mary and George gazed at one another approvingly, and smiled to Grandpa Joe who wisely waited for a clearer definition of "we."

"Mary and I are to holiday with my brother and his wife in Paris."

Grandpa Joe approved as well, not being one to travel. He nodded in dismay towards the children chasing one another, bickering over who was to stay behind and look after Nana. "I'll tell them George." Mary offered, also saddened that her children were not invited.

"Tell them what Mary?" George asked, rereading the telegram one last time, clearly he did not understand what it meant to his children, even being their father.

In the morning, the children still unaware they were not invited on the holiday, George gave notice to the Bank Manager that a week from Thursday he would be on holiday. "Good George, I'll mark you off in the ledger with pay." A holiday with pay and George got to start his vacation early on the Wednesday before they left!

He was very pleased with himself when he returned home, and even more pleased (if that were possible) when the tickets for their transportation to Paris arrived the same day, paid in full by his eldest brother Peter. "Right on time, just like Peter said. You know, Mary, making peace with my brother was the best thing I could have done in my life. There is no bond greater the one a man shares than with his brother."

As Mary washed the dishes, cheered by George's fine mood, her smile faded. "And what of your wife? Is that bond not great?" Mary queried, turning to look at him as he glanced through his paper.

"What Mary? What did you say?"

Mary turned back around without a word and continued scrubbing.

Wendy, John and Michael listened at the top of the stairs, wanting to know every detail of their vacation. Aunt Millicent and Grandpa Joe sat with George and Mary over tea to discuss who would take the children. "Well, they can stay here in their home with me." Grandpa Joe stated frankly.

Aunt Millicent demanded they stay with her, "Oh no, Joseph, the children will need a woman around, especially Wendy. There are things only a woman understands about a young girl that age." Aunt Millicent was dying to get her claws into the Darling's oldest child, their only daughter. Her parents knew this and therefore Grandpa Joe won. In the end, the children would stay home, and Aunt Millicent would stay in George and Mary's room for the week.

The children were dismayed that there was to be a holiday of fun and adventure without them. "Mother wouldn't really go without us, would she, Wendy?" Michael asked, shocked by the notion that his mother might just have a life of her own her outside of her children. They had bragged to their friends at school that -- not only were they to be off for an entire week -- but they were going to the most amazing place in the entire globe, although they were not sure where that was.

Just like her mother, Wendy would not give up on anything she wanted without a fight. The next night, after they were in bed and Mary sat beside her and talked for an hour about everything alive and important to a young girl of thirteen, Wendy asked, "Why is it that only you and father going?"

Mary knew the children were disappointed to be left behind, so she gave the best relief she could. She stayed in the nursery until their minds were rested and released of all their worries and defeats.

"But we so looked forward to going, Mother," Michael complained.

"I told everyone at school already mother, what will they think?" John added.

"I know, my dearest, I know. But it is to be a grown up's holiday. Uncle Peter and his wife have no children, and what would you do with only adults around but be bored? They would expect you to be quiet and behave even more so than Aunt Millicent does. You would always have to be dressed in your finest and never get dirty. You would not be allowed to play or run about. We could not bring Nana with us, and she would be alone here. With no one to walk her or play with her, she would miss you children and spend the entire time wailing for your return. And think of all you will miss in school. Every day you learn something new, and every day you are away would only mean more extra homework when you return, and I know how you children hate your homework," Mary soothed them.

"Will you miss us?" Wendy asked.

"Oh course, Wendy! I will miss you all, and think about you constantly while I am away. I will also miss my warm bed and my afternoon tea, I will miss cooking and serving you your supper. I will miss not giving you your baths and putting you to bed. I will miss this house; I will miss everything that happens while I am away. You know, children, I probably won't have any fun at all."

Mary should never have voiced her last sentence, because the children remembered it. They felt sorry that George was dragging her to Paris when it seemed, at least to them, she didn't want to go. They agreed to be good children and listen to Grandpa Joe and say prayers at night. "Think of all the fun you will have without your mother telling you to wash you hands, and your father telling you to be quiet. Grandpa Joe will mock Aunt Millicent and let you have the run of the house. Oh, I'm sure you will be up past your bedtimes and he'll spoil you with loads of candies and sweets," Mary encouraged them, making them giggle. "Your father and I will bring back something special for each of you," Mary told them as she kissed their heads and turned out the light.

The Thursday of their departure came, and Mary hugged and kissed the children as if she would never see them again. She held each one by their face and memorized every detail with tears in her eyes. "Now remember, you promised to be good and not give Grandpa Joe anything to fret over. Remember, I will be thinking about you all the time, and I love you. Say your prayers before bed and do your homework. Eat your breakfast, lunch and supper, and please not too much candy. Brush your teeth, I love you."

Aside from her stay at the hospital, she had never been away from them. George, less demonstrative, shook Michael and John's hands formally, and titled them "the men of the house." He nodded uncomfortably to Wendy, not sure what to do. Both Mary and George patted Nana on the head. With their good-byes to Aunt Millicent and Grandpa Joe completed, they were off in the cab with Mary looking back longingly as she waved.

The children stayed outside and waved to their mother as the cab drove away. Wendy did not go inside until it had turned out of sight. Her mother was only gone a minute and already her heart was aching from Mary's absence. Wendy dreaded going back into the house.

She loved Grandpa Joe, but Aunt Millicent she could do without, for Aunt Millicent watched Wendy in the most peculiar way, as if waiting for something to happen that never did. The boys could be boys and she couldn't care less, but where Wendy was concerned, she must be the proper lady at all times. "Sit up straight, Wendy. Fix your dress, Wendy. Where are your gloves, Wendy?" she would command, or worse, suggest, "Have your mother pull your hair up and off your face. Tell your mother that you are to speak only when spoken to. Tell your mother that young girls should not dress up as boys and climb trees." Aunt Millicent would tell her mother herself and Mary would always reply, "She's just a young child."

"Mr. Baker and Mrs. Baker would never stand for that kind of behavior from their daughter, even when she was a young child," Aunt Millicent would add with a smug expression.

Mary would counter, "Well, George and I are the new Mr. and Mrs. Darling, not Mr. and Mrs. Baker." Wendy did not know who Mr. and Mrs. Baker were, and she was clueless as to the identity of the old Mr. and Mrs. Darling, but whatever her mother said worked, for no more words were spoken to Mary about how Wendy should behave.

The week seemed to last forever, the children waiting for George and Mary to return. They did have their fun, though. Grandpa Joe let them stay up late on the weekend, and made them pancakes with lots of butter and sweet sugary syrup every morning for breakfast. He took them to church on Sunday, and then out and about London after services. They had a jolly good time window-shopping. He took them to the sweet shop and let them stuff their pockets with whatever candy was to their liking, asking them, "Please do not eat it all today, and please, for my sake, brush your teeth good and right before you go to bed." Every night, even those when the children had school the next day, he would let them put on big productions of their stories, and made Aunt Millicent watch and clap at the end.

As the years passed, Wendy had developed a larger cast of characters she made up from her own experiences. Her favorite was Peter Pan; she named him Peter because that was her favorite uncle's name. He was a boy who never grew up, because that is what Mary would say to George when he would criticize how poorly his eldest brother handled his finances. "George, Peter will never grow up. He does not want to be burdened with the responsibilities that come with being an adult."

No matter how much merriment they made during the day, at night when they went to bed, the yearning for their mother would return. Aunt Millicent tucked them in and said "Good night, children," without a kiss or a hug or even a story. So Wendy told the stories and the boys went to bed.

By the time Mary and George were to return home, John and Michael mockingly called Wendy "mother" and in return she made them drink a tablespoon of bath water and called it medicine. "You have a cough, John, you need to take your medicine." He would fight, and she would insist, reassuring him that she knew best, and so he would. Wendy would then re-tuck them in after Millicent was gone and spend an hour asking the same questions her mother had when she was home. "What did you learn in school today Michael? And John was your arithmetic homework correct? What was the your favorite game that you played today? Did you notice any clouds in the sky when you walked home from school? Tell me what you want to dream about tonight as you drift off to sleep? Well Michael, is that not what you dreamed last night?"

The Friday their parents were to return, the children raced home from school only to find they would not be returning until Sunday. "Why Sunday? They were to return today!" Michael pouted.

They marked the day on their calendar, and every evening, the children would take turns marking the days away with an enormous red "X". Grandpa Joe said it was because their parents could not get back any sooner, even though they begged for a ticket and were just as sad as the children, if not more, because they had no fun without them. "Your mother even made your father get down on his hands and knees and plead with the train conductor for passage home! Oh yes, children, they had their bags to the station."

Grandpa Joe had folded the telegram George had sent and placed in his pocket out of sight. With the children asleep, he let Aunt Millicent read it before casting it into the fire. "Just as I suspected," she commented.

Dear Grandpa Joe,

We are having such a wonderful time here and will not be home until Sunday.

George

When George wrote the telegram, he did not mention the children or anything about begging for a ticket on his hands and knees. He wanted to add that he and Mary sent their love, but that cost extra. They were truly having a wonderful time, though. Peter, his wife, Mary and George went all around Paris, dining on the finest foods in the best restaurants, taking in the sights, drinking expensive champagne and smoking cigarettes with Peter apparently footing the bill. "No George, you are not to pay one check while here on my invitation. To the honeymoon you and your lovely wife never had!" Peter toasted Mary and George at their first meal together, and for a short time, it was a honeymoon.

Although it did not start out that way. Mary had never seen George so anxious to do anything in his life, even make love to her for the first time. As their ship docked, he literally dragged Mary, who was tripping over her feet, to greet his brother waiting for them with a carriage. "Brothers reunited!" they shouted to each other as they embraced, with Mary, already feeling like the unnecessary third wheel to their brotherly bond, looked on.

"Oh Mary, still as gorgeous as ever," Peter complimented as he hugged her just as tightly as he had her husband. Peter held her by the shoulders and gazed at her figure, "Why Mary, I think this is the first time I've ever seen you not fat in the waist with George's baby. My brother must be slacking off." Peter tapped George who was smiling ear to ear at his wife, enjoying the subtle joke.

Mary did not find it funny. "You've seen me plenty of times without a baby in my belly, Peter, and as far as my husband goes, I am the one who can no longer bear children," Mary retorted lifting her own suitcase and offering it to the carriage driver.

Peter strangely held his grin to her, and then patted George again, offering, "Let's get you both settled in a room." George and Mary sat in the back of the carriage with Peter resting with the driver, giving him direction, when George spoke up to his wife and condemned, "You were very rude with my brother, Mary. Please watch your tongue as we are his guests."

Instead of staying at Peter's castle, a real castle with a highest tower, he had them stay at an extravagant hotel with a balcony and a fireplace large enough to stand in. Peter's friends were just as rich as he, and loved that George was well educated in stocks and bonds. They made small talk about investments while sipping scotch.

The ladies complimented Mary on her hairstyle and slim figure, "You had three children? That simply cannot be possible!"

They partied and danced until dawn, and retired to their king-size bed with satin sheets to make love and sleep. Not since they were newlyweds had they bathed together, and then only out of necessity. The flat had been small, in the seedy part of town, and there was only enough hot water to fill one bath every other day, so they made do. But in Paris, just for old time's sake, they ran the bath full of bubbles and spent the entire afternoon soaking together until their skin puckered up like raisins. And although they were together, they were often separated by groups and away from one another at dinner. George spent countless hours "catching up" with Peter, or so he said, and Peter's wife and her society friends entertained Mary. Every night when they went to bed, George would exclaim, "I am so happy to be this close to my brother Peter, there is no bond more important to a man then the one he shares with his brother."

They lived the life of luxury that week, and George didn't want to go home. Mary did not have to clean or cook, for when they left for the day, the maid would come in and make the bed. When they returned, there were mints on their pillows, fresh sheets on the bed and clean towels in the bath. It was the honeymoon they never had, the honeymoon Mary would have had if she had married the bigger fish. But it didn't matter because she had George and he was the most handsome man now in all of England and in all of France.

George was reserved and quiet at home, but in Paris he took to laughing hard and engaging in sordid conversations. He got drunk every night they were away, and insisted they stay at whatever party they were attending until it was over. Mary watched her husband from across another room, feeling miles away from him, as he fell over in hysterics laughing with men that would have made him tremble in his shoes if he ever was to encounter them in his normal life as bank clerk.

Something was changing in him, another side of his personality that Mary was not even aware of came forth, and dominated the parts of George that Mary most cherished. Her only comfort came in knowing this world would only last a week, whereas the world she loved with her George in it, would last a lifetime.

As the days progressed, George altered increasingly. Mary was shocked when he suggested they make love quickly in the greenhouse of his brother's manor when no one was around. He led her in and pushed her up against the window, lifting her dress and unfastening her undergarment. He unzipped his trousers and began entering her feverishly. She was unsure if it was the position he held her in, standing with one leg up, or the fear that they would be caught, but she climaxed just as fast as he did. Later in the day, again when no one was around, they ventured into a washroom alone. He took her from behind, leaning her over the vanity, and for the first time, she liked it that way. And that was the only part of the new George she liked, the part of him that had become uninhibited in his pursuit of her, and spontaneous in his desires.

The only other thing Mary did enjoy about her visit was the delectable cuisine of Paris, and Mary swore if she stayed there another week, she would get fat. They ate croissants with sweet butter and coffee for breakfast, and rich foods full of flavor for lunch. Dinner in itself was a grand affair with multiple courses of fresh seafood and steaks, fruits and cheeses, garden vegetables, stews and soups, breads of all shapes and sizes, and wine with everything. Every meal came with desserts, sweet and sugary, that made them sleepy afterwards. So the Darlings ate, drank and made very merry on their holiday.

They slept naked and intertwined with no worries of the children snooping or sneaking in. Theirs was now a torrid love affair full of passion and new exploration. Mary kissed every inch of George's body, including his toes and he did exactly the same. Once they realized how satisfying and enjoyable a "quickie" could be, they did it as often as possible. Mary was afraid George would have a heart attack from all their contact, but he seemed more ready than she at times. When the hour grew late and he had enough to drink, George became very frisky, and would go so far as to touch her breasts or bite her neck in front of their new friends. She would slap him away if they were in front of others, but as soon as they were alone, she would become just as aggressive. A little tipsy herself, she once ripped his shirt off, frustrated with the buttons.

For only a week, George declared Mary must forget they were parents with responsibilities at home. He wanted to pretend they were newly married with the world at their feet, and a fresh life before them.

The day they were to return, George informed her they would be spending extra days in Paris to prolong his fun. Mary mentioned the children, and asked him to imagine what they were doing, wondering if they were being well behaved and doing their homework.

George, sitting beside her inebriated and jolly with his drink and new friends joked, "I think when we go home, you should spread your legs, Mary, and let them climb up back inside of you, that way you will always be assured of their safety." He slurred it, so it was not as clear as it is written, but just the same she heard every word and rewarded his mockery with a slap in the face before stalking out of the room.

George chased after her, harshly grabbing her by the arm, drunker than she had even seen him in her life and angry at her insult. "Let go of me, George, you are hurting me," Mary commanded, and Peter, the valiant knight, rode up on his white horse and saved the day, taking George back inside to the party while directing Mary to the washroom to "freshen up."

She freshened up, and soon rode back to the hotel in a carriage with George unconscious beside her. "I think I shall be sick, Mary," George mumbled as she helped in into the room, and he did, all over the floor.

The next day was no better. While enjoying the warm Paris weather, Mary sat with a group of ladies in Peter's garden. To call it a garden did not do it justice. The property was full of rolling green hills and a splendid array of flowers in bloom. There they sat on their wicker chairs when a woman, older than Mary in age and appearance, inquired after George. "That man over there, who he is?"

All the ladies turned to see at whom she was pointing, and it was Mary's beloved. "That's my husband, George Darling, he's Peter's brother." Mary smiled graciously; expecting compliments about his handsome face, but received instead a verbal punch in the nose that almost sent her from her chair.

"Oh really, your husband you say? I'm surprised. I would have guessed him a fairy. Does he fancy men as well as you?"

Mary was speechless. She was naïve about certain things, but she knew what it meant when someone said "fairy" and was referring to man in the same sentence. "I beg your pardon! How dare you say such a thing? We've been happily married for thirteen years!" Mary was furious at her insult, standing tall and dominant, as if readying for battle against the rude woman still sitting as she shouted. Mary glared at the woman, and stepped back crossing her arms, waiting for her reply. But not another word was spoken, because the men gathered round to see the "cat fight brewing between the ladies."

George questioned Mary later about the episode, she told him the "horribly stupid hag with the pitiful wig insulted my dress."

Peter's wife heard what was said, and apologized to Mary, assuring her that not a word would be mentioned to George, and that woman would never be welcome again in their home. It didn't matter. That experience and all the others made Mary demand George take her home that very night.

It was only the afternoon, and George wanted to stay not only for the delightful dinner his brother had planned but also for the party after. "We shall stay until Sunday, Mary, and that is my final word. If we could stay another week we would, and that would be final too."

Luckily for Mary, that was not the final word. George had a different experience that made him want to flee Paris for home, and not one that an apology and a promise could erase.

On that very same day, later in the evening, alone with his eldest brother Peter in his private study, George reviewed what was left of his mother's estate. She had died earlier that year in Chicago while staying with her sister. She was already in the ground four months before George found out she had died, and her money was all but spent on the his and Mary's holiday. "I knew if I sent you the money, you would put it into savings rather than enjoy it with Mary," Peter told him. "George, don't be mad now, I was doing you a favor!"

That was not the problem. The problem came when Peter complimented Mary on her miraculous recovery. It was to be his next sentiment that made George nearly choke on his tea. "Mary has always been such an attractive woman, I've often wondered how you managed to keep her all these years. I used to think it was because you couldn't keep it in your pants, and that's how you put her in the wrong way, by getting her pregnant. But now I see it was to make sure you got her. You lucky dog, I'll bet she's an animal in bed. Sure you can handle her still? You know, I wouldn't mind having a go at her myself, and I can tell, George, by the way she looks at me, she probably feels the same."

George's carefree attitude suddenly disappeared. Only the day before, he had bragged about Mary's skill in fellatio over scotch and cigars. He now grew very uncomfortable and loosened his tie. His brother took no notice of his disposition and continued, "I could take Mary for the evening, and you could take my wife for the evening. You, George, can finish what you started with my wife earlier today. Oh yes, she told me all about your little tryst. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. As a matter of fact, I think she will be quite willing. They say variety is the spice of life, and it's about time Mary got some variety, don't you think? And really, brother, what's fair is fair."

George didn't need to know which one he meant when Peter said, "She wouldn't mind," whether it was Mary or Peter's wife. There was no way he would allow or want Mary to lie down with another man. Peter left him with, "Let me know."

George didn't say who said what, or how the topic was brought up, but for his own piece of mind, he whispered to an already hostile Mary at dinner, "Would you like another man to take you to bed?"

Her expression of horror was all he needed to see to know she'd never thought about any other man that way. When she screeched, "GEORGE, ARE YOU INSANE?" she answered his query completely. She also answered Peter's request without speaking to him directly, because he heard her yell at the other end of the table, as did all the other guests.

Later, in bed, for her own piece of mind, she asked him her own questions. "No, Mary, I could never imagine living my life with anyone but you." They agreed that, for them, sex was not just the physical act of two people; it was a part of their marriage that was private and reserved just for each other.

And so, they were relieved to go home on Sunday, and go back to being responsible grown ups. George thanked his brother for his hospitality and shook his hand before leaving. Mary pecked Peter's cheek kindly and embraced his wife as they departed back to London (never knowing it was Peter who had made the suggestion in the first place).

George and Mary maintained silence on the boat home as well as the while they waited for a cab to take them home. "I think I will write to my brother and thank him for showing us around Paris and introducing us to his lovely friends. Would you like me to add any words of your own, Mary, maybe to his wife?" George asked on their way back to their home.

"No, George, I think I will leave Peter in the past, if you don't mind."

George really didn't mind. But just the same, Peter was, after all, the only brother with whom George still had any contact. For that, he felt it best to hold his tongue, knowing he was not going home to endless rounds of good food, fine wine and fun. "Do not think ill of him or his wife, Mary, they are, after all, my family."

Mary got out of the cab, and carried her own bag to the door. "No, George, I am your family. Your children are your family."

George nodded his head and offered a weak smile to appease her, and then he saw something in her eyes that brought him back to the old George. Her face was different, she was seeing him through new eyes and he hated the reflection that was cast back at him in the London light.

He stepped forward to her and raised her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over it. "I'm sorry if I offended you when we were away. I just never remember ever being so carefree. I know you are my family, and I know the children are my family. I missed them, too, even Nana and your father. I think Peter is not the only thing we shall leave in the past, Mary. I think we should leave Paris in the past as well."

Mary smiled and kissed his cheek, but not before gazing upon his face as their lips met, checking his identity, to be sure it was, in fact, her George that returned. It was, and so they kissed, with George cracking a joke that truly made Mary laugh, "There is one thing I did not miss while we were away..." He paused to gain her attention, "Your aunt Millicent."


	16. Chapter 16 Aunt Millicent's Mayhem

My Darling Love

Chapter 16 – Aunt Millicent's Mayhem

"A gift consists not in what is done or given, but in the intention of the giver or doer."

_-Seneca_

No one knew exactly how much George kept in his savings accounts. He never discussed the Darling finances with anyone, not even Mary. He did speak to her about stocks and bonds, and the house accounts, usually reminding her of her over spending on unnecessary items. "Mary, I know you enjoy good tea, but must you always buy the finest tea?"

George had established a savings account for each of the children at the Bank where he worked. There was a savings account for rainy days and another one for medical expenses. There was something George called the "petty cash account" which, to Mary, meant that if any unforeseen event occurred requiring a gift, like a wedding or a christening, that is the account the money came from.

George set up separate accounts for the house, the bills, the grocer, the baker, the butcher, all requiring their own ledger book where George totted numbers, balanced the totals and cut costs daily. Every morning as she tidied the parlor, Mary found a list on her end table, noting the correct deductions in her expenses that would be necessary to maintain their budget: "I have cut your allowance once again, for I received another bill from the dress maker." or "You are to return the earrings you purchased from the jeweler on Friday as we cannot afford the decoration." and "I have sent word to the butcher that I will be making the order from now on since you served meat almost every day this week when I specifically told you we must cut it from our diet at least two nights a week."

Aunt Millicent thought George was either very cheap or a miser. He never let Mary redecorate the house or buy new furniture. He never took Mary to restaurants or plays or outings. He never purchased jewelry or perfume for her. On her birthday, in the morning she got a kiss in the kitchen and a compliment, "you look lovely today dearest, happy birthday," at dinner he, George, would toast Mary and present her with a bouquet of pink roses from the children.

Mary didn't mind, and appreciated that she never needed to worry about money, simply because George told her on Saturday, after he checked and double checked their finances, "Mary, everything is in order, no need to worry after money this week." For George worried enough for both of them. Regarding all his notes and lists of what she could and could not spend money on -- return this, stop buying that, and so forth -- Mary held her tongue. Aunt Millicent went so far as to quit inviting Mary to lunch each week. "I would ask you along, Mary, but I fear I might have to finally speak up for you myself when George leaves a little letter telling you that you are no longer allowed to exit the house, for the wear on the bottom of your shoes will be too expensive," she sniffed

It was simply habit for George Darling to worry about money. Everyone around him seemed to forget that he and Mary had been destitute when they first married, and had lived hand to mouth for many uncomfortable months. Even though George did not splash his money around, they still lived a comfortable lifestyle. Although Mary never reaped the benefits of his hard earned cash, his children did. He spared his children no expense when providing for them. The moment their shoes seem worn, she heard "Mary, you are to replace them, children need good shoes on their feet ... Do not mend the boys' shirts if they rip, buy them new ones, and pants while you're at it ... If Wendy needs a new dress for church, Mary, buy her one, no, buy two for good measure, and make pick the prettiest ... I heard the children speak of a toy at supper, they have been very good, Mary, buy it for them..."

His ending sentiment was always the same, "The best money can buy for them, Mary." And that, above all else, pleased Mary the most. She never cared after herself or her own wants, if George said "no" then no was no. She respected his good judgment and knew herself that most purchases she made for herself were impulsive and unnecessary. George was a good provider to her and their children. To Mary, that was far more important than meat on Tuesdays and gold earrings that really weren't her style anyway.

So George did have money, he just preferred to spend it on good investments, like his children and a house for them to live in. George purchased their home from Grandpa Joe for full value and paid him cash when he did.

"It's not necessary, son," Grandpa Joe objected, "you and Mary will get the money back after I die." But George would not hear of it, and insisted that Grandpa Joe must live forever, "No sir, I insist, and you must live forever for you are to me a better father then my own!" And, if Grandpa Joe were to die, George requested his father-in-law bequeath his wealth from retirement and his own private investments, to his grandchildren, Wendy, John and Michael.

George was a conservative investor, Grandpa Joe played the market, and soon the value paid for the house was doubled, which Grandpa Joe invested in a trust account that George had recommended for the grandchildren. And George never took a single cent from Grandpa Joe, adamant he was to remain in the house rent-free. He never made the other man pay for groceries or milk or any bill that came in the post. George even purchased his pipe tobacco.

Grandpa Joe not only loved George but also respected him, and, after many years of marriage, he finally admitted to his daughter that he was wrong. "I am proud that you were headstrong and insisted on taking George as your husband, so much better than the bigger fish." For George had made his precious Mary, his only daughter, happy and gave her children she wanted and a fine house to raise them in. George honored his vows to love her and keep her in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, and Grandpa Joe knew his daughter and son-in-law would stay that way until death parted them. But unlike Mr. Baker, who lived on for years now without Mrs. Baker, Grandpa Joe knew that if George or Mary were ever to pass, the one left behind would surely soon follow after.

Aunt Millicent had never approved of George. Not only was he cheap, in her opinion, but unmotivated. After all his years at the bank he was still only a clerk. It did not matter to her that he received a raise every year for his perfect service, or that he received a generous Christmas bonus for never missing a day of work. She was painfully aware that no one in high places knew who George was. All that mattered to her was that he was not the bigger fish. Money in the bank -- not to be used but to be saved -- was not the same as money in the pocket to be spent. Aunt Millicent had a saying, "If you die and there is any money left over, you didn't invest well."

So, when George and Mary came home from Paris, lugging bundles of presents for the children, Aunt Millicent fainted. George brought his sons a fancy chess set with hand carved pieces, toy soldiers, wooden swords and theater costumes so they could really dress up and pretend to be whatever their stories called for. Mary got John a leather spectacle case, just like his father's, and Michael a soft cuddly teddy bear.

They'd brought Wendy an exquisite doll, perfume and a pretty dress from her mother. George had picked out -- especially for his little girl -- a silver makeup case, hand mirror, hairbrush and comb with her full birth name engraved upon it. Conspicuously absent in his gifts to Wendy were any which would aid in her make-believe. "Wendy, soon you are to be a proper young lady, and young ladies don't dress up and make believe they are pirates," Mary told her gently when she saw Wendy's disappointment.

Upon opening the wooden box and seeing the unfamiliar name on the mirror, Wendy was not just disappointed, she was devastated. "My name is not Gwendolyn, it's Wendy!" she cried, thinking at first that her father's gifts were second hand.

"Your name is Gwendolyn, dearest, it's only Wendy for short, a child's nickname," Mary corrected her daughter who held upon her face a pouted lower lip. To Wendy, "Gwendolyn" was worse than "Georgeanne."

Aunt Millicent had never known that Wendy had a formal name, and was finally impressed that George did something right. Aunt Millicent now insisted everyone call Wendy "Gwendolyn" so she would "become accustomed to hearing her name properly."

But Mary scoffed at the idea, and George agreed with his wife. "That is not needed, Aunt Millicent, we will always call her Wendy, for nothing is formal in this house." The boys went to bed happy with their gifts. Wendy, only pleased with what her mother had brought her, left George's gifts downstairs, stomping up the stairs.

"Wendy Angelina Darling, you come down here right now and apologize to your father!" Mary shouted up the stairs. The children froze in their places at their mother's raised voice. Their eyes were wide. John and Michael turned slowly to see Wendy's frightened expression.

Mary never raised her voice to the children, and she never called any of them by their full names. The voice was so uncharacteristic to Mary's mild tone; she even got the attention of her father, husband and aunt when she gave sound to it.

Wendy slowly descended the stairs to her mother's stern face. If Aunt Millicent could break out into applause, she would have. "Now, your father spent a great amount of time and money picking out something special just for you. How dare you insult him like that! If you don't want your presents, I will take them back. Now apologize Gwendolyn."

Anyone taking the time to notice would see that Wendy and Mary were duplicates of one another at that age. The only difference was that Mary, at thirteen, had already begun her training with Aunt Millicent; so to be steadfast and stubborn where her parents were concerned would have never happened. Mary was already eighteen when she first went against her parents' command. Wendy was only thirteen when she frankly told her mother she did not want any of her gifts "if that means I have to say I'm sorry."

Stern-faced, Mary told her, "That's fine, Wendy, I will collect them and take them all back in a moment. Go to your room."

George stood alongside his wife while she disciplined their daughter, and whispered, "It's really alright, we'll just put my gift away until she is older and can appreciate them." Mary gave him no response, but watched as Wendy ascended the stairs, only to stop and face her parents standing in the foyer. Poor Wendy cried to her mother. "It's not fair for you to take away the gifts I like, just because of the one I don't, mother."

"No Wendy, what isn't fair is that your father and I are only home not even an hour and this is the reception from our children that we receive. We spent a week longing for our children and thinking about both you and your brothers endlessly. And if I heard YOU correctly, Wendy, you said you did not want your gifts. Now go to your room. Now." Still with that unfamiliar voice, Mary had her hands on her hips, and a face just as intractable.

"Wicked witch..." Wendy muttered under her breath, as she turned back around and slowly walked to the nursery.

John and Michael loved Wendy, but at the moment, they loved their presents more. So, as Wendy went up, they flew down and hugged their mother and father and repeated, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Mary picked up the lovely wooden box wherein the delicate silver items lay, and carried it up the stairs and into her room. On her own vanity table, she looked at her silver hand mirror, makeup case, brush and comb her father had purchased many years ago when she too was a young girl of thirteen. She'd cherished it from the moment she first laid eyes on it, and sobbed endlessly when her father told her she had to leave it with him when she married George. Inscribed with "Mary Elizabeth, My Greatest Joy," she was sure he had disposed of it, but the night he went to their home and said his peace, these items were the olive branch he extended to her.

She opened the bottom drawer of her vanity, placing there Gwendolyn's gift from her father for another day.

Maybe this was her only mistake as their mother: for all the clothes and shoes and toys she gave to the children, she gave them without identifying the true giver. "You need a new dress for church Wendy," or "Children, you have been very good so here is a reward for your behavior." The simple addition of "from your father" regarding the daily presents the children received might have eased Wendy's woes about George and his intentions. But Mary did not appreciate the importance of this until she realized George never mentioned his own generosity to his children. Therefore, loving their mother as much as they did, they assumed that all gifts came from her.

That night, without a word or story, Mary put the children to bed. Then, one by one, she removed the Wendy's gifts from the nursery, and shut the door when she was finished.

Wendy had turned away from her mother in her bed on the opposite side of the room, and was crying for the loss of the pretty doll with the porcelain face, and the beautiful green gown, just like her mother's. Wendy sprayed the perfume on her own wrist when she first unwrapped it and now sniffed its sweet fragrance.

John and Michael felt sorry for Wendy, for they had their toys. John was wearing the officer's coat with dress pins to bed, just in case he was needed to direct the battle at a moment's notice, and Michael clutched his new teddy bear. They had all hoped mother would have changed her mind and let Wendy keep the gifts she liked, but to no avail. And the comforting kisses Wendy had expected did not come. Her only consolation came from Nana, who licked her face in her loving doggy capacity .

Downstairs, Grandpa Joe asked after the name "Gwendolyn."

"Where ever did you hear that name George? Mary's suggestion?" He had always wanted to ask, from the first moment he heard it years ago.

"No, mine. It was my favorite." George would have liked to leave it there, but he knew that Gwendolyn was a family name of the Bakers, although he was unsure of what the meaning was.

Grandpa Joe, just as George suspected would not let it go at being "his favorite," and pressed him for further explanations.

"As you know, the day I came here with my mother for tea to meet Mary was not the first time I had seen her," George said finally. "I used to see her in church on Sundays, and at the grocer's, walking in the park, and home from her piano lessons. She was and is, even now, the most beautiful creature that ever existed. I always wanted to talk to her, but never knew how to approach such an angel. She used to come into the bank as well, with your wife. I asked my associate one day what her name was and he said he was unsure, but the name listed on the account was Gwendolyn Baker. So in my mind, that was her name. You can imagine my surprise when you asked my mother and I over for tea that day, and told me your daughter's name was Mary Elizabeth. I knew of your family. I vaguely remembered what transpired the night I spilled punch on her gown at my parent's party a year or so before, and I thought Gwendolyn was perhaps an older sister -- only to find that Mary was truly my beloved 'Gwendolyn'."

Grandpa Joe was speechless except for, "oh yes, the punch on her dress and the punch in the nose that followed, however could I forget."

"Oh Joseph, tell him who Gwendolyn was," Aunt Millicent said, still shocked, clutching her brother's arm.

Grandpa Joe wiped his eyes, as to hide the tears hidden inside. He rose from his chair and stood by the window. "Gwendolyn was my mother. You see George, Millie here didn't think I should have married Elizabeth." To which Aunt Millicent interrupted shrieking, "JOSEPH!"

Grandpa Joe turned to his sister and rolled his eyes, "Anyway, my mother told me, 'Joe, don't listen to your sister, it's your life not hers and money isn't everything.' My wife's family was dirt poor you see, George. But my mother, she didn't care, she said, 'If you love that girl Joe, then you marry her right now! I don't care if you have to run away to do it! And then I want you to give me a granddaughter too! I want you to name that baby girl, Mary, just for me!' So I did. I married Elizabeth and a year later we had Mary Elizabeth. The diamond broche Mary sold when you were newlyweds had been hers. I gave that broche to my mother the day my beautiful baby girl was born." George was just as astonished, for Mary had never told him that story or her grandmother's name.

"I still cannot believe a family heirloom like that is gone forever," Aunt Millicent hissed at George, shaking her head.

"It is not gone," George said as he rose from his chair and carried their luggage in from the foyer. "Mary has it upstairs."

Aunt Millicent's head jerked up. "When did you retrieve it?" she asked, following after him.

He fixed his glasses and thought about it for a moment. "Just after Wendy was born, Mary sold her hair and I sold my pocket watch."

He wiped his spectacles with his handkerchief as Aunt Millicent screeched in horror. "HER HAIR! How could you let your wife sell her hair?"

George raised his eyebrow in her direction, clearly asking her, "How do you think we were able to survive, with our relatives billing us for the privilege of breathing?"

"It grew back, Aunt Millicent," Mary replied softly as she descended the stairs, Wendy's gifts safely put away in the hall closet.

"But dearest, to cut your long locks for a piece of jewelry--."

"I didn't just cut my long locks for a piece of jewelry, I cut my hair to pay the rent, heat and hot water bills so we didn't freeze in the winter , and to buy groceries so we didn't starve. George sold his pocket watch to pay the midwife, and to buy me clothes after Wendy was born. How do you think we survived when disowned by our parents? All those wonderful memories of the past aside Aunt Millicent, George was inaccurate, he repurchased the broche as a Christmas gift to me after all our debts were paid." Mary explained taking George's arm around her waist that he loving offered.

Aunt Millicent turned up her nose and snorted, "What your parents did, they did because they felt it in your best interests."

George shifted his head to his wife and met her gaze, "Mary, I told you not to cut your long hair. What a lesson that would have been to us when we froze to death and starved that first winter."

The sarcasm was not lost on Aunt Millicent, who was a master at it. "All you would have had to do is come home." She still held her head high.

Mary jerked her head to her aunt as she sneered "We were not welcome home."

With that said, Mary returned her attention to her husband, "No George, I think the bigger lesson would have been learned if we had left Wendy in the orphanage," Mary answered and continued, "You see Aunt Millicent, we had to chose whether we wanted to sacrifice all that we had left of ourselves or Wendy. We chose to keep Wendy. I'm sorry that you didn't agree with our decision, but since you did nothing but gossip and tell lies about us, I really don't care what you think. George, Aunt Millicent's luggage."

George ran up the stairs taking two at a time and gathered her bags. He assisted her into a cab, and she told him she was not to return until they, both Mary and George, apologized for their rude behavior.

With her gone, Grandpa Joe sat down with George and Mary and enjoyed what was left of the evening in silence. "I'm sorry, children," Grandpa Joe offered, as George and Mary went up the stairs to bed.

"Worry not, Father, we learned our lesson and are better off for it." Mary did not look back and only continued to climb.

George said nothing to Grandpa Joe, only to Mary when they reached their room. "I'm sorry that you had to cut your hair." Mary was changing into her last lace nightie from their holiday. She sat down at her vanity and removed the pins the held her hair atop her head. As she began to brush the long silken strands of brunette -- still without one gray hair -- she replied, "George, Wendy must never be made to sell her hair." He nodded his agreement to her request and questioned, "Mary, why didn't your Aunt Millicent want your father to marry your mother?"

"The same reason she didn't want me to marry you George." Mary answered, and with that they both finished dressing for bed.

The children were still awake in the nursery and it was to be a long night of talking back and forth under their blankets. They were not sure what had changed in their mother while she was away, but something was different. Wendy was still upset, whimpering her dismays, and Michael and John did their very best to comfort her.

The scent from the fancy perfume her mother chose because of "the feminine aroma reminds me of the essence of a young girl growing up into womanhood," was all but sniffed from her wrist. And the pretty doll and even prettier dress taken away for her disobedience and rebellious behavior made her unable to sleep. It wasn't that Wendy didn't want to grow up, just not yet. She didn't understand why mother had chosen so long ago to trade the play tea sets and rag dolls for a real tea serving and real babies that cried and needed things. Contrarily, when Wendy tired of her dolls, she would put them back in the toy box and forget about them. If it was lovely weather outside, her pretend tea party with the queen was canceled to go climb trees.

Wendy saw that her mother had no such choices. If Wendy, John or Michael cried for her, she could not hide them away in a box. When it was lovely weather, a fine day for a walk in the park, but father wanted his supper early, she was trapped inside. She was trapped with her father forever. No removable face or persona, George Darling was her husband. He was a banker who knew the cost of everything, even a hug, and told her. She would never be swept away by a knight in shining armor or pirate captain. She was stuck with the king.

Wendy dreamed of her perfect love, the one that would get the kiss and the happily ever after. He randomly changed day to day depending on her mood. Sometimes he was the knight who rode to rescue her on his horse, sometimes it was a handsome prince who lived in a fancy castle and gave her anything she wanted. It was even, at times, the pirate captain, because he needed love, too. But never was it a banker who wore spectacles and read the paper in the kitchen. Wendy blamed George for her mother's actions, and in her imagination, made excuses for her mother. "Father complained that what mother wanted to buy me cost too much," she decided. "She picked out those things and said he did, so I would not be hurt that he forgot about me."

George had indeed chosen those items, and Mary had played no part in his carefully selected acquisition. In fact, Mary was not even at the store. Uncle Peter had taken George shopping for a gift for Aunt Millicent, to say thank you for watching after the children. There, in an expensive jewelry showroom in a more glamorous section of Paris, he saw it on display in the window. He knew Wendy loved anything that she thought was like her mother's. And this set was identical.

Mary had not lied; the set was very expensive. But he said, "Dash the expense," and had it inscribed. Wendy, in her anger, only saw her formal name engraved on the mirror, she never picked up the brush or comb. Each had been marked with her monogram. Had she opened the make up case, she would have found it filled with "suitable cosmetics for a young girl," George had paid extra for. The inside also held another inscription, "To my darling daughter Wendy."

"What did you pick out for me?" Mary had asked back at the hotel, seeing the wooden box with the satin-pillow lining and the emblem of the shop embossed on the top.

"Why nothing, Mary, it is a gift just for Wendy." George was so proud of it when he showed Mary that he beamed.

At that moment, Mary found herself resentful, for in all their years of marriage, George had never put that much thought or money into anything for her, whether it be her birthday or Christmas. And she was his wife, a woman he had vowed to forsake all others for. So, upon their return, that was why Mary was angry with her daughter. Mary treasured the smallest amount of pampering George bestowed upon her, and for Wendy to scoff at him, as though the engraved silver gifts in the wooden box were not enough or not what she wanted was an insult to her as well as George.

George and Mary were also awake that Sunday night. George rambled on about all the fun he had in Paris and how much he wanted to take the children on a holiday, "Not Paris, mind you, Mary, but maybe to the country in summer."

Mary listened as he went on and on about the expense of such a trip, and how he would never be able to take more time off from work. In the end he decided against it but offered to send her with her father and the children away, "only if you want to."

Mary had left the door to their room open, listening not only to George, but also to the children down the hall. She could not make out their words, but could tell there were some serious discussions going on. "Did you have a good time in Paris, Mary?" George finally asked, tugging on her nightgown to gain her attention to him. She was turned on her side facing away from him, he, lying on his back, was watching the ceiling.

"Not as much as you, George." Mary rose and put on her robe without another word and left the room.

George also got to his feet, for he, too, had heard the children and wanted to protect them from another possible reprimand, sensing Mary was not herself since they'd returned. He went into the nursery and found the children pretending to be asleep. Even Nana hid in the doghouse between their beds, put her paws up over her snout. For good measure, when he saw John peek through his eyelids, and Michael whispered, "Has father left yet?" George offered, "Just wanted to say good night to you, pleasant dreams."

George descended the stairs to find his wife scrubbing away at the kitchen floor. "Mary, what are you doing?" (Poor George, he would have done better to stay in bed and away from his wife this night!)

Mary erupted in her pent up frustration, "You know, George, that diamond broche is the only thing you ever bought for me the entire time we've been married and that was only because I cried for it. Not once on my birthday have you ever brought home a necklace or earrings, or any special gift just for me! At Christmas, it's always the children who get to unwrap fancy packages of toys and things they want, and I get nothing but 'the goose was delicious and you make the finest pies, dear.' " Mary did her best George impression, mimicking his normal compliments of her cooking.

"Peter showers his wife with presents -- did you see her engagement ring or her wedding band? She has an entire room in that castle just for her clothes and another room just as big for her shoes! The woman has some much jewelry George, Peter makes her keep it in vault in their bedchamber for fear they will be robbed!"

George was dumbfounded at her unexpected tirade. He did not know what to say only, "I do my best, Mary."

"Well, George, often your best isn't good enough. Aunt Millicent asked me what wonderful souvenirs I returned with from Paris and I had to tell that woman, nothing, for that is what you gave me. She told me just this evening that she suggested you buy me a hair clip for our trip. The one I have was my mother's, and it is missing stones and is bent from use. She told me you said I didn't need another one. That the one I have 'is just right as rain.' " She again mimicked his tone.

"Did it ever occur to you, George Darling, that I should get the things I want, too, not that I need them, but that I want them, and I want to receive them from you? You could have found an inexpensive hair clip, just as nice. But you didn't think I was special enough to have it. In truth, you don't think me special enough to have anything! I didn't even have a fine party dress for Paris. I had to borrow my sister-in-law's gowns! Can you even begin to imagine how embarrassing that was for me. I had to lie George! I had to lie and say I forgot to pack one. Not just one George, SEVEN, for we had a party to go to every single night, and 'Oh no dearest Mary, did you not read my telegram? In it, I clearly stated we would be doing a lot of entertaining and a woman as magnificent as you can not be seen in the same gown twice, what would my wealthy friends think?' Mary now mimicked Peter Darling.

"Your brother Peter felt sorry for me George and felt it his duty to purchase for me a suitable dress, although I would not call it that! And then I had to stand there and be thankful for his generosity while he just went on and on about how you...forget it George."

Mary stood up as she ranted and now had her arms crossed in front of her. She held her stare to the floor, while George gazed in utter shock and disbelief at her. He went to her quickly, as she had finally stopped shouting at him, only to be pushed away, inciting another round of her yelling.

"I am not your wife George and the children's mother, I am your maid, your chef, your launderer and your whore all rolled in to one, apparently. When it comes to the children, I am nothing more than their nanny and nurse. You really are lucky, George, to have found a woman with so many talents. I suppose that just being staff in this house; I should know I am not entitled to anything but my weekly wages, which you have again cut for my misspending. I am underpaid for this profession, and overworked!"

She stormed past him and back up the stairs, "Go to sleep, children, this very instant!" They still were making a racket, thinking they were quiet. Mary slammed their bedroom door, but not before throwing George's pillow and blanket down the stairs.

It seems Wendy was correct at guessing the identity of her mother this night. Mary had become a wicked witch. All the times she held her tongue when she really wanted to shout at her husband over his unfairness to her were released, and it felt so good to dismiss those demons she grew instantly exhausted. That night, Mary slept in the bed and George on the sofa.

The children were awake first and down the stairs, dressed for school and ready for breakfast Monday morning. It seemed strange that Mary was not in the kitchen that morning, cooking, attired correctly, with tea brewing in the kettle, like every morning before. The three of them looked up the stairs as one. "You go," Michael nudged John who responded, "No, you, Wendy."

Wendy climbed the stairs slowly to her parents' room. She knocked on the door and waited for the voice that commanded her to "enter, but remain in the doorway." Mr. and Mrs. George Darling's room was strictly off limits to the children. Aside from the time Wendy hid in the wardrobe, no one except Mary and George had ever dared venture in. This particular morning there was no answer. Wendy softly whispered, "Mother..." to the door, but still no reply.

Just as she was about to turn the doorknob without permission, Grandpa Joe opened his. "Wendy..." he said, catching his granddaughter red-handed. "You know you are not to go in unless you parents tell you to."

Wendy had been crying most of the night. Even now, with her face washed, and dressed in her school uniform, the evidence of her miserable evening was present on her face. "No one is downstairs," she replied still quite upset and on the verge of tears.

Grandpa Joe rapped loudly on the door and yelled to Mary to open up. The door creaked open and George peeked his head out. He mumbled something to Grandpa Joe and smiled at Wendy.

"Alright children, Grandpa Joe is taking you to school, we'll get breakfast on the way."

John and Michael cheered from downstairs. Grandpa Joe would take them to a bakery and get them pastries and treats. Wendy followed after Grandpa Joe, but looked up one last time before her parents' door was out of sight.

George opened the door, dressed and ready for work, "Come now, Wendy, let us be off." He shushed her the rest of the way down. She affixed her coat and hat and glanced back to see her mother standing at the top of the stairs as if to make a grand entrance still in her nightgown and robe. There was something very different about her indeed.


	17. Chapter 17 Falling to Captain Hook

Rated R – Sexual content

My Darling Love

Chapter 17 – Falling to Captain Hook

"_The best bridge between despair and hope is a good night's sleep."_

_-E. Joseph Cossman_

Mary stood at the back of the church. She wore a dress of antique lace, her mother's, white as the first snow of winter. The train ran down the length and fanned out behind her, her veil followed. The beadwork was exquisite; pearls encircled the neck and bodice. It was simple A-line, flattering to her very slim figure. She had dreamed all of her life of wearing this, as there had never been a more beautiful dress in which to be married. Her Aunt Millicent wanted to buy her another, more formal and magnificent, but she had declined.

She carried in her hands, roses, red in color. A bouquet of buds, not yet ready to bloom held out before her, like no other before her. Her bridesmaids wore dresses in a hue of fairest periwinkle, her Aunt Millicent's choice. They lined along the front altar, standing as if they were wooden soldiers awaiting her arrival. To her right, was her father, and he had never seemed so proud in his entire life as he had told her so the entire day as she prepared to be a bride. For she was by far the loveliest bride he had ever seen. Her mother smiled to her as the wedding march began.

It should be the have been the happiest day and her life, and try she as she might, she could not find in her heart a reason. Everyone else was overjoyed, the church was lined with row after row of people assembled to witness their vows, and to wish her and her new husband well. He was a handsome gentleman, only a few years older. A successful solicitor -- not a bank clerk -- and when he called on her, her parents reassured her that he was the best choice, far superior to any other man that had courted her. But she did not love him. "You will learn to love him, love is not something that just happens," Aunt Millicent informed her. Yet, she knew he was not the man she was to spend the rest of her life with. He stood at the altar railing, beaming, while she could only manage a false grin.

"Are you ready Mary?" her father asked, holding her arm in his as he began his steps forward.

_'No!' _Her mind said, but her feet followed her father's. '_Please stop moving, I do not wish to marry the bigger fish.'_

But her feet would not listen, not even to her heart, and on that day, (when she said the words, "till death parts us" through pale wooden lips,) she became the bigger fish's wife.

When they returned from her extravagant, luxurious honeymoon, her husband returned to the office. Hers was an endless routine of waking and sleeping, with not much else in between. They had servants that did everything for her, for she was the lady of the house, now, and was not to lift a finger. If she was alive inside her body, she did not show it. Dinner parties and banquets, garden parties and teas all melted into her conscious mind onto nothingness. No one noticed, her husband included, that she never smiled. She would purposefully grin as others joked, and then return to her passive face.

She was always pretty, always proper and always in her place. Conversations around her simply passed through her, and her silence became expected. Her husband did not talk with her, more so at her. She never responded, only acting as if deaf. Soon her loneliness in life consumed her, until the day her husband demanded a child from her.

"We've been married over thirteen years now, and I'll be expecting a son from you," he told her as they retired to her bedchamber late one evening in the fall. "Mary Elizabeth Fisher, are you listening to me? A son, I want a son. Not a daughter, a son. So you must do your very best to give me what I want, a son. I will accept no less. Now removed your nightdress." His eyes glared at her as she turned over on her back, raising her gown just enough to expose her bare womanhood. Mary Elizabeth Fisher said nothing and closed her eyes. "Ah, do not fret Mary, after you are with child, I won't require you to service me. Although, once you deliver my son, be forewarned my demands of you in my bed will return."

She did not move in her position below him as he rode on top of her without care to her delicate frame. He grunted his release, sweaty and out of breath from all the huffing and puffing he did above her. Without a kiss or his condolences to help his wife through the daily hell she was trapped in, the bigger fish rolled over, and soon began snoring. She lightly slipped out of bed and over to the window, looking into the night sky. "I hate children," she whispered into the heavy air that hung before her.

"How could you hate children? You were once a child yourself." Peter Pan stood waiting on the sill in front of her.

"I am not a child anymore. I am an adult, with responsibilities. I am someone's wife, and soon I will be someone's mother." She looked past him, not seeing him.

"When you have children, I will take them to Neverland and they will never have to grow up," he responded smiling.

"All children should be made to grow up, no one can stay young forever." This time she looked at him when she spoke.

"I will always be young and never have to grow up." Peter swept into the room, still holding his happy grin.

Mary turned to him, and for the first time in her matured years, she smiled. "Have you seen George? When is he coming?"

Peter stood before her, now wearing a serious frown of confusion. "Mary, who's George?"

Mary slowly walked to her vanity and sat down. She began to brush her long hair that flowed down her back. She lifted her favorite perfume, smelling the fragrance of the bottle. Showing her bare wrists, she sprayed them with the scent. She gazed at her flawless expression in the mirror and then turned to him. "Do you remember that day? When he asked me to run away with him? Sail away on the seven seas and beyond..."

Peter approached her, grimacing at her disposition. She lacked emotion in her words and spoke them matter-of-factly. "Yes, I remember. You must be mixed up somehow, Mary, HIS name is not George, its..." Mary shushed him with her finger, "Don't say his name, I'm not supposed to remember."

"But you should remember, never forget! You told him you couldn't because he wasn't real, just part of your imagination. You told him you wanted to marry a real husband!"

"Yes, but did I tell him that I loved him still." She again returned her gaze to the mirror.

"Yes you did, but then you still wanted to grow up and now you are married to the bigger fish, just like you wanted." Peter glared at her with his arms crossed.

Her demeanor confused Peter. In all the years he had visited her since she was a younger lady, she had always been glad she had made her decision to grow up. She swore that she would hold within her heart all the emotions of adulthood and the pleasures that came with the responsibilities of being a wife and mother. "God will return him to me," she declared, to Peter Pan's dismay.

And then one night, this one in particular, when he made a special trip just to say, "I told you so," without warning, he found her in this strange darkness.

"Did George ever tell when I could go back?" she queried.

"Mary, have you gone mad? There is no George for you! And the one you are talking about, the one you want to come and get you, he's not real! And I don't know why you would want him anyway! He's a liar Mary, a very bad man who is to burn in hell for his sins for all eternity! And I am going to be the one who sends him there!" he shouted at her, although she took mind to his words.

Peter took flight above the bed, above her husband, the bigger fish, looking down at the man asleep below. "You have never given him the kiss that leads to happily ever after?" Peter asked, floating about Mr. Fisher, who rolled over him his sleep and mumbled, "Fret not Mary, for when my son is born, I will hire him a proper nanny and nurse, you won't even be his mother..."

"How can I give him the hidden kiss if George never put it there?" Mary responded, as if from a great distance. Peter looked off to where Mary had gone to, no longer seeing her there. He glanced about the room quickly, looking for her, finding it empty. He flew into the hallway and down the stairs of her house. Nowhere to be found, he blasted through her front doors out into the street. "MARY!" he cried out.

"Mary, did you hear me, dear? Are you ready?" Mr. Baker asked his beautiful daughter on her wedding day. The wedding march was nearly over, and she stood rooted to her spot.

_'No!' _Her mind's voice spoke, "No," her heart repeated.

"Dearest Mary Elizabeth, really, people are looking. Now we'd best walk you down the aisle," her father whispered, pulling her arm tightly to his.

"NO!" she shouted. If her family and friends gathered had not yet been looking, they all were now.

Aunt Millicent and her mother stepped quickly to where Mary Baker Darling stood firm in her footing. They reassured their guests as they made their way to the back of the church. "Mary Elizabeth Baker, you mustn't make a scene," her Aunt Millicent insisted.

"Cold feet, that's all it is dearest. As soon as you make your way to your fiancé, you will feel better," her mother assured her.

"George, where is George? I am supposed to marry George!" Mary screamed.

"Mary, what are you talking about? George? Who's George? Mary you must lower your voice this very instant. There is no George. You are marrying the bigger fish, look my darling daughter, down the aisle he awaits you. He will make a good husband and you will live the rest of your life a proper lady in the lap of luxury," her father calmed her.

"It's George Darling, Father, I am supposed to marry George Darling," Mary told him, looking about to her mother and Aunt Millicent as well, who held baffled expressions shrugging their shoulders to one another.

"Mary, who is this George you speak of?" her mother queried, shushing her husband and sister-in-law who were on the verge of dragging Mary to thee altar.

"My fiancé, you told me I couldn't marry him because he was not wealthy enough. He should have come to my window and thrown pebbles -- we were to escape together this very day!"

Her parents and Aunt looked to one another again, this time in absolute horror. Mr. Baker came to his senses first and asked, "Who is this George Darling, Mary? How did you meet him and when were you engaged? Who are his parents?"

Mary stepped back from her father, who moved alongside his wife. They truly had no idea of whom she spoke. "You introduced me to George, Father. You met him in the bakery. You were there when he asked for my hand. He is the son of Frederick and Josephine Darling."

Her family, now gathered around her, and stared at one another as if Mary had informed them she was the tooth fairy. Mr. Baker soothed his wife and sister, and then turned to his only daughter, "Do you speak of the Darlings that reside on Charles Street, Mary Elizabeth? Frederick Darling the Fourth?"

Mary nodded her head and offered her first smile of the day. "Mary Elizabeth," now it was her mother who spoke, "this George said he was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Darling?"

Mary embraced her mother tightly, "Yes mother, yes. He is Frederick Darling the fourth's forth son."

"She's gone mad, Joseph," Aunt Millicent declared, "either's she gone mad or has been greatly deceived by a scoundrel."

Mary whipped around and grasped Millicent around her shoulders, "No, Aunt Millicent, you met him, you told me he was not good enough to marry, you sent him a wedding invitation at his place of work. That is why he came to rescue me."

Aunt Millicent yanked herself from Mary, giving her a face filled with resolute anger, "Young lady, I did no such thing. Right until the moment before you stepped to this aisle, you were perfectly content to the proper wife of a solicitor."

Mary trembled where she stood and looked to her mother for comfort. Mrs. Baker embraced her and wiped the tears pouring down her daughter's cheeks, "Oh Mary Elizabeth, maybe it was just a dream. It is an impossibility for you to be engaged to the forth son of Mr. and Mrs. Darling."

Mary gazed up to her mother's face, "Because he is already married?"

Mr. Baker stepped to Mary and began gently rubbing her back, to sooth the imaginary ache that filled her, "No dearest Mary, it simply cannot be, for Mr. and Mrs. Darling do not have a forth son, only three."

Mary stepped back and away from her mother, distancing herself and her parents, "You lie, and George is real. He is a banker."

"Mary Elizabeth, all the sons of the Darlings, and there are only three, are doctors," Aunt Millicent corrected. "How foolish would it be to have three sons who are doctors and one that is only a banker! If you don't believe me, Mary Elizabeth, ask them yourselves, they are seated right there." Aunt Millicent pointed, and there in the back row of the church, seated with their three sons were the old Mr. and Mrs. Darling. "What are they doing here?" Mary asked.

"Mr. Darling is a very well respected man, Mary Elizabeth, I invited them."

Mr. Baker was already making his way to them, then whispered a few obviously unwelcome words in the ear of Mrs. Darling, whereupon she turned and glared hatefully at Mary before responding.

Mr. Baker slowly walked back to his family, waving to the priest for just another moment. "Mary Elizabeth, we stand corrected, the Darlings did have four sons and the youngest was named George. But Mary he is dead, he died as an infant from the small pox. His grave is right inside the cemetery. As soon as you are married, I will call the constables myself and have this rat, whatever his true name is, God in heaven only knows, reported or picked up or something. But do not worry over that now, today is your wedding day, and what a lovely bride you are Mary Elizabeth. Now if you would just settle down for a moment, your mother and aunt will straighten your dress and fix your face and then we can..." her father tried to calm her by wrapping his arm lovingly around her.

But there was to be no calming for Mary, she turned on her heel, descending the steps of the church in her full wedding attire. At the gates of the cemetery, there it was, plain as day. Four years after being born, Frederick Darling the Fourth's fourth son lay buried in the ground, a simple headstone marking the grave. Her parents followed her with stunned expression; their mouths gaped open as Mary bent down and kissed the marble stone with George's name engraved upon it.

Her Aunt Millicent turned to her sister-in-law, nearing tears, "Whatever will we tell the neighbors?"

Tears started as Mary whispered, "I know you are not dead, George, and if you will not come to me, I will rescue you." Mary ran all the way home to George. She opened the front door to their home, number fourteen, and called out for him. "George, I'm home!" But her beloved was not there. Panicked, she flew up the stairs.

There, in their bedroom she saw Peter Pan resting with his arms folded behind his head on her bed. The room was as it had been when she lived there as a young girl of sixteen. "I figured out who George is, and I told you Mary, he's gone and he is not coming back, not ever. As a matter of fact Mary Elizabeth Fisher, he's dead and its all your fault!" She opened the windows wide as she could and stood outward on the ledge. "You can't fly Mary! You're a grown up!"

"If you can hear me George, I'm coming."

She took a step forward and then another, and fell.

Mary closed her eyes as she fell. But on impact, she did not feel the pavement, but wooden planks. She looked up and found herself on the remains of the Jolly Roger. She got up as quickly as she could and investigated the entire ship from top to bottom, finding it empty and deserted. Pillaged and barren, every window on board was broken. The rain and snow that must have come during all the seasons the ship sat unoccupied had damaged all the furniture and the priceless treasures that remained on board.

She looked out toward the island, and felt the strange emotion of change. It was warm and peaceful, and quiet, too quiet. Only the sounds of wildlife could be heard, no voices, no movement. In her solitude and isolation she found relief. No wedding to a man she didn't love, no parents, no Aunt Millicent, no responsibilities.

"I'm free! Finally Free! I'm here, I'm home," she shouted to the shore, her arms outstretched in the wind.

Turning back to explore the ship, she entered a doorway marked "Captain Jas. Hook". His once magnificent cabin now destroyed by the weather and time. She sat down at his harpsichord and began playing. How wondrous that natural talent in music never fades. The keys now broken, the instrument out of tune, and still she was sure of all the chords. When her song was finished, she lay on his bed. The mattress was soaked through, wetting her already soiled wedding gown. Through the dank stench of moldy water, she could smell him. Her weight upon it caused the frame holding it together to collapse. She turned her head to glance about the destruction of the pirate captain's life's work, when she noticed his wardrobe.

Mary rose and opened the wardrobe to see the ragged remnants of his attire, and she pulled out a dress coat, dancing around the room with it and humming to herself as she went. She placed his ruined hat on her head and sat at his desk, exploring the contents within. Masses of papers and documents had dissolved together due to their exposure to the elements. As the night fell on the ship, she took refuge down below to escape the rains that came. In the pirate bunks she slept, still in his coat and hat.

In the morning, Captain Hook came back aboard the Jolly Roger. Upon entering his cabin, wet from the rains that still poured from the heavens outside, he found her sitting in the center of the room, dressed in his clothing. To her, he was as she remembered. His hair was long and dark with wet curls that cascaded down his back. Identical in appearance, except for the absence of George's eyeglasses and George's cleanly shaven face, Hook was her husband.

"I've been waiting for you, Captain Hook," was all Mary said as she rose to meet him.

She moved to him and brushed her lips to his. The rain to his body matted his clothing. She peeled his shirt from him and discarded it. Her first kiss to him was passionate and lustful. He had not been with a woman since before he could remember, and longed for her affection. He took no attention to the fact that she was a lovely older woman of thirty-one until he opened his coat she wore. Underneath she was completely bare and pulled herself close to him. The scar of her own third son Michael, oddly enough, had vanished from her body. She had goose bumps from head to toe, her nipples erect. He gently stroked her body and she moaned in anticipation.

Captain Hook spoke, wanting to know whom he was kissing. "To what do I owe this honor, my lady?"

She stood back from him, naked, and leaned her head forward, quite surprised by his question. "I am the fair maiden, the beautiful princess, the lovely queen, Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty..." She gave him every title role Wendy had ever cast her in.

He looked deeply into her eyes, blue as the sea. Her hair was once perfectly placed atop her head, braided in a bun, but now free, drenched and disheveled. Her face seemed to be hiding something and even as she smiled, he felt as though the amorous grin was meant for another.

"Then you are beauty and I am the beast," he mumbled, as he kissed down her neck.

"Close enough," she breathed as she again approached him in an embrace. She shocked him by being so forward, very un-ladylike. She tugged at his breeches and he could not remove them fast enough as they continued to kiss.

They rolled on the floor, neither wanting to be on top, until his position above her selected, and then it began. Without delay or foreplay, he thrust deeply inside of her. She cried out a long lingering moan, knowing now George would never again be the only one, and still he pushed into her womanhood deeper. "Does it hurt?" He asked playfully, seeing her horrified expression. She bit her lip with his member shoved cruelly into her body as far as it could go. "Yes..." She managed, ensnared in the agony. "Good..." He sneered, withdrawing completely only to thrust his length into her wholly once again.

"Would you like me to stop?" He purred in her ear, Mary literally screaming out in anguish as he repeated this action several times, each time using more force, more hostility, more malice. "Please...have mercy on me..." Mary begged through her clenched teeth. Captain Hook, in one long stroke of his tongue, tasted Mary from neck to nose. He licked his lips when he finished and paused a moment to consider her request for compassion. "Mercy? Well Madam, who do you think I am? God?" He looked above and rolled his eyes as the Lord's name was mentioned.

"No, I think not Madam. Now, if you don't like it this way, I'll try it another." He gave no warning to her, or time to adjust to his weight that came down on her hard as he began his assault. Captain Hook took no care as he slid in and out of her at such a rapid pace and for her it was easier to not breathe than TO try. Her head banged against the floorboards of his cabin, and still he continued plowing her. She cried heavy tears, not of joy or satisfaction, but for all the pain that surged through her.

"Tell me you love me," she panted into his ear.

"Never," he responded not missing a beat.

"Why?" she pleaded, grasping his shoulders to help soften the impact of him on her.

"Because you have simply confused my identity once again. I am not George Darling, Madam."

"Mary dearest, are you awake?" George leaned above Mary dressed and ready leave her for the day, off to work. Mary opened her eyes and bolted up. "Mary, I was thinking, last night I checked the books and the finances, and after work if Grandpa Joe wouldn't mind looking after the children and giving them supper, we could go to that jeweler downtown and you could help me pick out something nice, special just for you. I would do it myself, but I want it to be something--"

George could not continue his suggestion for Mary grabbed him so tightly he couldn't breathe. She pulled him down onto the bed and began kissing his face, neck, shoulders, hands, and anything else she could hold on to, "I love you George, I love you, I'm so sorry for what I said, please, please forgive me. I love you and only you, I love you." She repeated the sentiment one thousand times without taking a breath.

George was speechless and watched his wife as she frantically recited her entire dream from start to finish. George could not get a word in edgewise as she rambled on and explained each part. "Then my father said you had died of the small pox and I saw your headstone, so I jumped out the window, that's right George, I jumped out the window and landed on a pirate ship...."

Sporadically, George could manage a comment or a question, "I did have small pox when I was four, it was quite bad or so I am told. That is why I wear spectacles, it damaged my eyes, but how did you know it was specifically small pox?" or "Mary, good heavens, a pirate captain?"

But mostly it was Mary doing the talking. She ended with, "Tell me you love me."

George fixed his glasses and sat up straight as an arrow as said, "I love you, Mary," seriously.

Mary jumped up from the bed and pulled him to her. "Tell me again, George, tell me you love me."

George grabbed her by her shoulders to hold her still. "Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, I love you." He finished with a kiss to put the period at the end of the sentence.

Mary hugged him close and began pecking his cheek, showering him with endless affections, knocking his spectacles from his face and messing his hair. "Oh, I'm sorry George, I'm making you late for work!" Mary said, slightly panicked by the time shown on the side table clock.

George just stared at his wife as he stood up at attention alongside the bed. She assumed he would dip in for a kiss on her cheek and be off, but it was rather obvious when he began hastily removing his tie, opening his shirt, while pushing both dress shirt and jacket open, exposing his chest that he had something else in mind. Mary watched George in shock and anticipation, unprepared for his seduction so late in the morning, as he unbuckled his belt, unfastened his pants, pushing both down his long muscular legs. She hadn't noticed as he undressed, gazing at his perfectly defined body, but his member was hard and ready.

George flung himself on the bed beside her and, in one easy motion, raised Mary and her nightgown over him, pounding his key into her lock. He wickedly, deliciously turned it within her leaving his wife holding tightly to the headboard as she tried to keep up with the speedy pace George set as he thrust from beneath her, (driving out any memory of the pirate captain which might have lingered). Both were left panting for air while attempting to (touch the other everywhere,) and kiss any part of the other they could manage to get their lips on. Groaning ecstatically, George came and then came again as Mary rocked to completion as well, falling onto him.

"Oh my goodness, George, that was ...you are just ... I can't believe how well ... I mean it was ... wonderful ... I never felt so..." Mary whimpered trying desperately to express her rush of emotions. The only complete sentence she could articulate was, "I love you, George."

"I know Mary. I love you, I told you I love you and only you, and I meant it. I just think that something this important needs to be proven," George told her, quite proud of his performance, as he patted her on the back for release.

She granted it, rising up and off of him, both trying to clean up after an unexpected and messy lovemaking session. George needed to change his clothes and fix himself up while Mary, still in her nightgown wet with his seed, which slipped down her leg, tore down the bed to change the sheets.

Neither heard Wendy knock but they both heard her call for her mother.

"George, she can't see me like this," Mary whispered. She fixed her nightgown and ran to her vanity to brush her hair and apply rouge to her cheeks.

Baffled by his wife, he jerked his head from the door to Mary and back, unsure which to handle first. "George, pick your favorite of my dresses for me to wear." George ignored the door and went to the wardrobe.

Grandpa Joe rapped on the door and Mary said, "Oh George, get the door, the children..."

George walked back to the door and peeked out. "It's not a good time, Mary seems not herself this morning," George whispered to Grandpa Joe, who nodded.

After George shut himself back in and headed to the wardrobe, Mary directed, "George you will late for work," rushing him out the door.

"Mary, are you alright?" he asked before he opened it.

"Yes George, I'm fine. I love you and the children so much. I am just so thankful that God heard my prayers that night ..." She pushed him out with another kiss and he went. Mary fixed her robe and her hair and followed. Wendy didn't see it, but as she walked out with her brothers and her father, Mary was smiling from the top of the stairs.


	18. Chapter 18 Dearest Wendy

My Darling Love

Chapter 18 – Dearest Wendy

"_A little girl is innocence playing in the mud, beauty standing on its head, and motherhood dragging a doll by the foot."_

_-Allan Beck_

Wendy thought about her mother all day while at school. The beautiful queen, or rather, the wicked witch, banished the lovely princess from the kingdom for not accepting the tin crown presented by the cowardly king. The only way for the princess to again wear the glass slippers would be to beg at the Queen's feet for mercy.

"But what happens if the Queen were to present me with an apple?" Wendy asked John as they met on the street, once dismissed from school.

"If it were poisoned, you would become Snow White," he answered.

"I just would have worn the tin crown," Michael answered, as Nana led them along the streets on their way home, for Nana took the children to school every morning and met them at the corner to bring them home. Mother never came, trusting the children's nurse with their safety. Nana would run in front of them, clearing a straight path, bumping and warning people out the way, and then quickly run along behind them pushing them along.

Only a block from where they met, they saw their mother rushing toward them, past the heedless crowds on the street. She called to them and waved, trying to get past the others simply strolling along. Nana came to her rescue, butting into pedestrians, and then nudging Mary forward to her children. They were surprised and excited to see her. "Look, it's mother! Look Wendy, mother came to walk us home today!" The boys ran to greet her, embracing her at the waist, Wendy hanging back.

"Wendy, darling, come here." Mary waited and Wendy approached her. Mary bent down to her beautiful princess and kissed her on her forehead. With this perfect kiss (but not the hidden one) Mary spoke, "Let us go see your father at the bank."

The children stared up at her as if she were taking them to see God Himself on his throne in Heaven. "We are to see father at the bank? Are we allowed mother?" Michael asked, tugging on her dress.

"Of course we are allowed. Do not be silly children," she replied, touching them all on the cheek, "people go in and out the bank everyday." She took her Michael and Wendy by the hands, directing John to hold Nana's leash, and led them to the bank, where George sat at his desk, hard at work.

Mary was a lovely lady, truly the fairest of them all (and always the fitting heroine for all of Wendy's best stories). She always dressed nicely, and her appearance made all men turn their heads as she passed. She told the children to be quiet, and begged them to behave before they entered. "We mustn't embarrass father at his profession, his manager will be watching." Mary bent down and quickly fixed each of her children's outfits, smoothing down the intransigent cowlicks on John and Michael's heads, and swiftly braiding Wendy's golden locks, which, in her morning haste, had become untidy. Mary even straightened the muss of Nana's coat as the children watched with a quizzical expression, fascinated by her insistence they be dressed as if they really were to meet God on His throne.

"Alright now, we mustn't make any noise, and you are absolutely forbidden to move from my side. No roaming about unattended, this is your father's place of business and there are many grown ups conducting their personal dealings inside. Do you understand?" Mary looked to each of the children, even Nana, who nodded in understanding. Mary placed a pleasant smile upon her face, pinching her cheeks to a sweet blush before opening the large wooden doors to the great foyer of the regal bank inside.

Mary held that same smile as they strolled in and down several steps to the bank constable standing by the front counter. "Mr. George Darling, please," Mary asked, clutching Michael tightly, whom was already turning about gazing at the grandeur found within.

"Wow, mother, does a king live here?" Michael interrupted as the constable questioned, "May I ask who's calling for him Miss?"

Mary put her finger to her mouth, signaling Michael to shush, as he was now attempting to get John and Wendy to agree that this was surely the house of royalty. Wendy and John responded, wide-eyed, shaking their heads. "Be quiet, Michael," Mary ordered in a low but very stern voice. And as though she had not just reprimanded her youngest son to the point of tears, Mary turned her attention to the constable, with that winning smile and politely replied, "Yes, his wife and children."

The constable grinned at the children, who held a dismal expression, fearing they were already in trouble, and had only been inside the bank for less than a minute. Helping alleviate their distress, he patted Michael on the head and exclaimed, "The Queen of England does not live here, young man, but she does bank here!"

The children gazed about in utter amazement that their father was employed by the real bank of London in which the real queen held all her finances, only until their mother showed her serious face reminding them, "Her majesty will not approve of misbehaved children if she should happen to come here to make a deposit." Wendy, John and Michael snapped to attention, pretending to be wooden soldiers and waited as the constable disappeared behind rows of desks and shelves lined with massive ledgers.

Wendy could not help herself and broke her face-forward stance, looking around the bank. She had never been there, either, as far as she could remember. It was a huge room, with marble floors that shone, freshly polished. Dark rich wood counters and cabinets decorated it throughout with proper gentlemen in fancy dress suits doing their business. There were chairs lining a wall, posh seats with crimson cushions and backs, which Wendy imagined were not comfortable at all to sit upon. Her proof was that no one inside rested there, "Only for decoration," she told herself as she moved her head for a better look down the massive corridor.

"Mother, what is down there?" Wendy asked, causing her brothers to loudly chime in their guesses, "That is where the Queen stays when she visits her jewels ... that is where the keep the dragon that guards the money..."

Mary twisted her head and glared down to the children, she didn't have to say anything for Nana spoke for her, not in a thunderous "woof" as would be expected, but by nipping each of the children on their backsides.

Aside from Mary, there were no other women inside the establishment. There was a constant inflow of men entering and proceeding to the line that formed around a velvet rope of crimson. The front counter had gold bars that ran up to the ceiling, more men standing behind them as if trapped in prison.

"Who are they mother, criminals?" Michael asked, tugging on her skirt in his most silent voice. With his question completed, he lowered his head and placed his hand over his mouth, mumbling, "I'm sorry mother," from behind it.

Mary watched her children, all in awe of the simple magnificence of a simple place of business, all scared witless they would embarrass her -- or worse -- their father. She felt sorry for them, all hanging their heads at their shameful behavior, so she knelt down in front of them. She just as quietly answered Michael's question. "No, Michael, they are the tellers. You see, the gentlemen come in and get in line, and when they are called, they go to the teller and either make a withdrawal or deposit from their account kept here. I know you have many questions, and I will answer every single one of them as soon as we leave, alright?"

George Darling was in the middle of balancing his afternoon ledger when the guardsman approached his desk, "Your wife and children are here to see you, Mr. Darling." George was a clerk, and a very well respected one at that. The guard tipped his hat as he turned without another word, and walked back to his post.

George promptly smoothed his hair and affixed his glasses, straightened his suit and tie, and calmly walked past his other colleagues to where his family was waiting. "Is everything alright, Mary? What is the matter with the children?" George's calm was quickly evaporating, and now he nervously checked the children from head to toe, looking for something obvious that would require Mary to bring them to his workplace.

"There is nothing the matter, George, I just wanted the children to see where you worked. They often ask about the bank and your profession, and now that they are older, I felt it was time to show them. You work so hard to be a proper gentleman and being a bank clerk is a noble and respectable position. I just wanted the children to see and understand that. "

George was the professional gentleman while at work. He was serious and never engaged in small talk about nonsense, always keeping his mind on his ledgers and the numbers written there. He stood up straight as an arrow and pushed out his chest proudly, offering John and Michael a handshake. For Wendy, he nodded and smiled timidly.

John and Michael were highly impressed with their father. Wendy was not. "Can we go back to your station, Father, and see where you work?" John queried, with Mary in agreement, "Oh yes George, what a wonderful idea, can they?"

His smile of appreciation altered to shock and he nearly shouted, "No, Mary, are you insane?" He pulled his wife over to the side and out of earshot from the children, lowering his voice, "Children are not allowed where the clerks perform their duties, you know that."

As Mary and George continued their whispered discussion separate from the children, Wendy, John and Michael lingered about, bored by their mother's "treat" of a trip to the bank. A real place, where grown-ups, living grown-up lives, went every day to do proper things like count money and make deposits was of absolutely no interest to them. Truth be told, the children had never asked Mary about their father or his profession. Only John wanted to see where the clerks worked so later on when they played in the nursery he could pretend he was the king of England who demanded the clerks work overtime investing his money, rapping his hand on their desks as he put out his royal decree.

Nana stood alongside the children, guarding them steadfastly to remain obedient to their mother's command. Another woman entered. She was wearing a fox stole, with the head still attached hanging off her shoulder. As she sometimes did when she saw something of interest, Nana took off running, intent of saving the woman from a fox's attack. The woman, her stole wrapped around her neck, strolled over to a group of men gathered chuckling and chatting. The children, lost in their own worlds, daydreaming of the park, and George and Mary still bickering over George hurting the children's feelings -- none of them saw Nana spring into action. Without warning, Nana pounced on the woman and began to drag her kicking and screaming back to the children who screamed and shouted in horror as well. "MARY!" George yelled knocking his wife over and out of the way as he fled to assist the woman to her feet.

"Very sorry ... Mrs. Couch ... family pet...." George apologized frantically as he dusted her off, and helped her into one of the uncomfortable chairs with the crimson cushions. Had it been anyone else but the bank president's wife, George would not have been that nervous and never would have yanked Nana on her collar hard enough to injure her. But she was, so he did, and Nana yelped in agony. "Quite alright, Mr. . . .?" Mrs. Couch began, graciously excepting a glass of water the Bank's constable offered.

"Darling, Mrs. Couch," George answered.

"Darling! I beg your pardon Sir? Did you just title me as Darling?" the great lady asked, shocked.

No, my Lady, never!" George tautly exclaimed. "My name is George Darling. Darling is my last name Mrs. Couch." He clarified. George spoke as if he was giving his name for the last time before being executed, "George Darling."

"Fine, Mr. Darling, I'll see you get the bill and it is deducted promptly from you pay." She fixed what remained of her new fur about her neck and, with the assistance of the multitude of employees surrounding her, made her way back to her husband, the bank's president and the senior board members who had just emerged from a rather important meeting on the other side of the bank.

The Bank's President, Sir Edward Quiller Couch, who (thankfully) did not witness what happened, inquired of his wife's new stole, now wet with dog slobber. She pointed to George, who was still clutching Nana's collar, smiling uncomfortably at Sir Edward's annoyed expression.

In the confusion, George had forgotten that his wife was Mary, the beautiful queen, a proper lady, who now moved past her husband and over to the gentlemen gathered around Mrs. Couch. He watched in trepidation, then in amazement as she extended her elegant hand and her own apologizes. She first bowed to the group of men, and lovingly placed her other hand gently on Mrs. Couch's shoulder, moving her head gracefully up and about, obviously complimenting her on either her lovely dress or her neatly coiffure hair -- perhaps both, for Mrs. Couch beamed with the flattery, and stepped back to give Mary a better look at her ensemble. Mrs. Couch then must have returned the sentiment, touching Mary's face, making her blush and hide an elusive smile behind her hand. They stood and chatted for another moment, with Sir Edward and the other men watching them giggle and whisper back and forth. The interlude ended with Mrs. Couch insisting, "We must have lunch sometime, Mrs. Darling, drop me a note when you are free." With a peck on the cheek, Mary fixed the situation at hand with Mrs. Couch and moved unto the next. Sir Edward Quiller Couch.

The children stood by their father and watched their mother charm George back into the good graces of the Bank and its president. She must have complimented him, too, for he blushed and nodded his proud head up and down to her. Mary took Sir Edward' s hand and led him to the children, smiling to George as she passed, and one by one introduced them to their father's boss. "This is Gwendolyn, our eldest. But she prefers to be called Wendy."

Sir Edward looked at Wendy and praised her on her pretty smile. "And this is John our second." Again Sir Edward nodded and smiled, noting the resemblance to his father was uncanny.

Finally she directed Sir Edward's attention to Michael, who was the perfect division of Mary and George. Michael stepped forward respectfully and raised his small hand offering a handshake. As Sir Edward obliged, Michael spoke loudly and shook back whole-heartedly, "I am Michael Darling, sir, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

With introductions completed, Sir Edward bowed to Mary, admiring her lovely family, but did recommend that banks were no place for the family pet. "Oh, I agree, it will never happen again. My husband was just telling me this morning," here she turned her and Sir Edward's attention to George, "the children look up to their father so, they are always begging me to allow them to visit him at the bank. Of course, I would never permit it myself, and so I asked George. He was delighted and informed me he thought it is very important for young children to see adults handling their responsibilities properly, for how ever will they learn if they are not allowed to see?"

Her last comment left a lasting impression on Sir Edward, "Oh yes, Mrs. Darling, I agree. I think that was wise of him to suggest you bring them in for a visit, just not the family pet." With Mary's assurance Nana would never visit George at the bank again, Sir Edward Quiller Couch took his leave without a word to George.

"Thank you, Mary," George said (in obvious relief) as he leaned his hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Alright children, home we go." She took them all out, winking to George who was making a fast pace back to his desk and his ledgers.

The children ran home with Nana following and Mary slowly strolling blocks behind them. Once home, the children darted up the stairs, ready to engage in combat at the command of General John to free the captive prince Michael from the evil clutches of the pirate captain Wendy.

But Mary had another idea for Wendy, as she was the last home and up the stairs, Mary interrupted their heated sword fight. "Wendy, I want to show you something." Mary took her daughter by the hand and dismissed the boys to the kitchen, "Your school work before your battle, please, boys." Mary surprisingly led Wendy into the room she shared with George.

"I am not allowed to go into your room," Wendy reminded her mother, still a little apprehensive about Mary's disposition.

"Yes, that is correct, but this afternoon I will make an exception."

Children being children, all of Mary and George's house rules had been broken at one time or another -- all except this one: "You are never to go into our room under any circumstances. You are to knock at the door and your mother or I will either come out and speak with you or direct you to stand in the doorway and speak with you there. But never are you to play in our room or snoop about when we are not around," George told each of the children when each was old enough to understand both the rule and the consequences. Of all the doors in the Darling Residence, this, the bedchamber of Mr. and Mrs. George Darling, was the only one kept closed at all times.

"Father, what is to be the punishment if we break your rule?" Michael had asked when told this, as he was the last one and always the most curious.

"Your mother and I will not trust you for a very long time. And without our trust you will receive no privileges," George replied with no further explanation. The Darlings trusted their children with their own good judgment. For the most part, they were allowed to play in the nursery by themselves and without supervision because Mary believed the best way to develop their imaginations in their own made-up worlds required privacy and no criticisms from grown ups. George simply thought it taught them maturity and responsibility. They went to school alone, only watched over by Nana, the same when they returned. They were also given free rein over the house when George was not home, and at times took their sword fights into the formal parlor or enjoyed a feast for their good service to the Queen and her kingdom at the kitchen table.

But they knew all that would stop if they were not trusted. To help squash the temptation all children felt (not to mention all grownups as well) when something was forbidden, Mary, when not upstairs, locked her and George's bedroom door.

The children never dared venture in, even when Aunt Millicent stayed there. So this was Wendy's first trip inside with her mother since she was a small child. It was a beautiful room, smaller than the nursery. It had a large bed that Wendy knew her parents slept in together. It had a large wardrobe standing against the wall next to mother's vanity, nearest the grand front window of the house. The window was decorated in blue curtains that had hung there as long as Wendy could remember. Every day when she came home from school, she would look up to that spacious window, knowing it was her parents' room, and wonder over the magic she was sure took place inside. As Wendy entered, she saw her father's dresser. It stood by the door, alone against the wall. Mary went to check on Michael and John, and left Wendy standing there, right in front of it. "I'll be right back Wendy, stand here until I return."

George's was a tall dresser, and, just like every room in the house, the furniture in this room matched perfectly. A deep rich cherry wood with pretty design of rose buds carved along the front. It was an odd decoration for a married couple of thirteen years; Wendy thought it should have been something more aristocratic, like the furniture in Grandpa Joe's room. This was the setting of a single young lady living at home with her parents.

But no, she was mistaken, as she glided about in a circle, their bed did not match anything. It was bigger than her bed, but not by much, and the headboard was polished brass, with no footboard. The sheets looked smooth and comfortable, with a huge puffy quilt covering it. The pillows were fluffed and placed perfectly on top. Wendy wanted to jump into it so badly, just to cover herself up and stretch out. "It must be lovely to fall asleep in such a grand bed," she thought to herself.

Wendy heard her mother reprimanding John for stabbing Michael in his shoulder and ripping his school shirt, which she now had to mend again. "If you are done with your school work, John, help your brother with his, so you can both return to your game in the nursery without interruption," her mother suggested downstairs in the kitchen, as Wendy found herself turned back around staring at George's dresser. The top had a gentleman's mirror, small and square. His leather spectacle case sat there with his comb and cologne. She sniffed the bottle, her mother's favorite scent that she purchased for him on his birthday and at Christmas. His old wallet, a pocket watch that was broken, keys to places she was unaware of, and his razor rested there also. Being brave, she opened the top drawer and saw his handkerchiefs neatly folded and lined in rows, next to his socks. The second draw contained his underpants, and Wendy giggled knowing exactly what they were. The third contained his sweaters, but before she could go further she saw her mother standing in the doorway with her arms folded in front of her, watching.

Wendy quickly shut the drawer and lowered her head, sure of her mother's wrath. But Mary just chuckled and kissed the top of Wendy's head. "I love you Wendy, you make me laugh so," Mary reassured her daughter, taking her hand and clasping it firmly in her own.

Mary took Wendy to her vanity table and sat her down in front of the mirror. Had Wendy known the treasures there she would have not wasted time looking through her father's boring dresser. Mary's vanity was stylish and splendid and very fancy. The delicate bench Wendy sat on was very comfy, even for being so small. She gazed down at the wide array of cosmetics and perfumes spread out before her. Wendy had no idea what they were for but she put her nose close to them to investigate. She turned to see her mother flipping through dresses in her wardrobe, so she peeked into the top drawer of the vanity. It contained brushes of every size and shape, "For the application of cosmetics..." Mary responded to Wendy's quizzical expression.

Her mother didn't seem to mind that she snooped through the vanity. "Go ahead, Wendy, you may look if you like," so she continued.

From the top drawer, the vanity split in two sections of drawers, each side having two more drawers, one on top of the other. The first she opened, left side nearest the window, contained Mary's hair items. Hair clips and pins, brushes, combs, setting lotions and strange devices for creating curls where none were present. She closed it and opened the one below. There she found her mother's personal items.

It once had a lock that Mary meant to have secured, for when she caught sight of her daughter picking up her diary she moved quickly to retrieve it and put it back. "Every woman has things that are private, that they share with no one, not their children, not their husband, only with themselves. This is where I keep those things. Do not open this drawer again." Mary closed the drawer, but did not lock it. She pointed to the other top drawer and urged Wendy on. "I think you will find many things of interest in there."

The third drawer, top right side nearest the wardrobe, was a jewelry box lined in velvet with a lid, which was supposed to be filled with the queen's priceless possessions. Wendy only found a bent hair clip with three stones missing, a fancy broche with a shiny glasslike jewel, a collar pin, one gold necklace with a red stone with matching earrings, and a gold bracelet with green jewels encased in it. Mary wore the hair clip, the collar pin and the necklace with earrings, but had never worn the bracelet or the broche and Wendy felt sorry for the beautiful treasures abandoned.

"May I have one, Mother?"

Mary looked over the items and picked up the bracelet. "You can keep this one, it will match the dress I purchased for you."

Overjoyed, Wendy wasted no time putting it on. "I'll cherish it always, Mother," Wendy insisted, as she examined her wrist with the pretty item upon it.

Next to the jewelry there was a wooden box, just like the box George had presented to Wendy, only this one was worn and old. Wendy opened the box and found the exact same set George gave her of makeup case, brush, and comb and hand mirror. Instead of the engraving, "Gwendolyn," her mother's was engraved "Mary Elizabeth..." Mary knelt next to her daughter, and Wendy looked to her mother's lovely face as she smiled that mocking grin. "From Father?" Wendy asked.

"Yes, from Father, but not your father, my father. My father gave this to me when he knew I was a young lady, just as your father presented you with the same. I want you to know, Wendy, your father picked out your gift especially for you. I always adored my gift and treasured it. To me, it meant that my father thought of me as a princess, and being that princess made me priceless in his eyes. He thought of me, and me alone. Watching a girl growing up into womanhood is different for a father than it is for a mother. When a daughter becomes a woman and gets married and has a family of her own, she becomes a close friend to her mother, closer, in fact for there will be so much more we will share in common. But for a father, when his daughter grows up and wants to marry, he has to give her away to another man. He must entrust to that man her whole life. That is the hardest part of being a father, to have to give your priceless princess away and to know, from then on, the moment you walk down the aisle and say your wedding vows, forever he will be replaced as the one and only man in your life. I treasured my gift, for to me it meant my father had accepted that fate, as begrudging and difficult as it is. Your father feels the same way about you, Wendy, he wanted you to have something that showed how proud he was that you are maturing into a young lady. You are priceless in your father's eyes." Mary held Wendy's face as she spoke, and then opened the last drawer of her vanity.

There alone inside was George's gift. Mary cleared the vanity's center section and placed Wendy's box there. "Soon you will be a young lady. There are things inside this box you will need." She took out each item and explained what they were used for, finishing with the makeup case and cosmetics inside. "When you are ready, Wendy, I will show you how to apply these cosmetics, I will show how to set your hair, I show you everything. And every question you have I will answer, when you are ready. Until you are, I will keep it here in my vanity. This is your drawer." Mary took the bracelet off of Wendy's wrist. "This is your bracelet now, and I will keep it in your drawer for you. I will never wear it unless I ask your permission first." Mary rose and gathered the perfume she purchased for Wendy and also placed it in the drawer. "For when you are ready." Mary closed the drawer and gave Wendy the key; this drawer too had a lock.

"Can I come in and visit them, Mother?" Wendy inquired, as Mary took her from the sacred bedroom and led her to the nursery.

"No, Wendy, you must always ask before you enter into mine and your father's bedroom. And those items are not to be played with. They are not toys. They are grown up things and only those who are grown up should use them. When you are ready to grow up, they will be there waiting for you." Mary hugged Wendy tightly and Wendy hugged back with all her might. "As you are not yet ready to grow up, I've placed some things more appropriate for you on your bed." Mary smiled to Wendy as she made her way back downstairs.

Inside the nursery, Wendy went straight to her own jewelry box Grandpa Joe bought for her last Christmas. Of course, she believed Santa gifted it to her, but just the same, she too adored it. She lovingly placed the key to her own drawer in Mary's vanity down within and gently closed the top. She teetered on her feet in front of Michael and John and simply stated, "This is my jewelry box for my 'girly things'." Wendy felt silly so she made a little fun of herself by curtsying to them as she directed her brothers to, "stay away from my 'girly things' please."

Truly, her brother did not care after her 'girly things,' they were more interested in the items their mother had placed on Wendy's bed. "Mother left those things for you. Are they considered 'girly' Wendy? Gees, I sure hope not!" Michael exclaimed. Wendy went to her bed and found the doll with the pretty porcelain face from Paris. Alongside of it, she found a costume, unique for Wendy. Mary had bought it with the funds George had placed aside for his wife's new hair clip. It was an armored bodice with a floral wrap for her waist.

"A warrior princess!" John shouted as Wendy held it to her chest and began to cry.

"Mother told us not to make a peep when you were in her room doing your silly girly things," Michael was jumping on his bed as he spoke. For Wendy, the best part was that it came with her own dagger and wooden sword. "So Captain Hook, you think you can steal away the gracious queen, do you? EN GUARDE!" Wendy yelled.

"There is something else!" John shouted, holding his sword to defend himself. Underneath the doll was a journal, a diary for Wendy. She opened it and read what her father had written on the inside cover.

Dearest Wendy,

For your stories,

Father

"He was afraid to give it to you after you didn't like the tin crown," Michael still jumping on his bed shouted. "Mother said she found it when she unpacked the bags from their holiday." John continued. Wendy looked at the leather bound journal, embossed with her name, her name for short, "Wendy" on the cover, and loved it more than her costume.

George Darling came home from work at ten minutes after six, like he did every day. He removed his coat and hat and went straight to the dining room, his family already waiting, even Aunt Millicent had returned. He sat down and ate his supper; Mary served him first, and he began eating, speaking stocks and bonds to Grandpa Joe. Michael and John challenged one another calling each other dastardly names, which caused Aunt Millicent, who held Mary's ear, to clutch her chest throughout dinner.

No one noticed Wendy who smiled lovingly at her father and did not speak a word.

When dinner was finished, Michael and John escaped to the nursery with Nana, Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent to the parlor, and Mary to the kitchen. Wendy approached her father who was preparing to get up from the table. He remained in his seat and watched his eldest child, his only daughter standing in front of him. "Thank you, Father," she said as she smiled and hugged him around his neck.

"You are welcome, Wendy." His face was unsure as he hugged her back. When she removed her embrace, he stood and patted her on the head.

"Goodnight, Father!" Wendy shouted as she disappeared from the dining room up the stairs.

George entered the kitchen with his paper and sat down. Mary was already hard at work scrubbing the pots and pans. "So you gave her the journal then, Mary?" George began, trying not to show his interest.

"Yes, I did." Mary turned to see George nodding. He flipped his paper open, not reading just wanting to know his daughter truly didn't hate him like she had said, when he continued, "I guess she liked it then?" He ended his question on a high note and moved his eyes to Mary who was standing leaning on the counter wiping her hands on her apron.

She walked up behind her husband and hugged his neck, the same way Wendy had. "What do you think, George?"

He smiled and touched her arms, as she leaned her head to see him, he dipped in for a kiss, his kiss and retrieved it. His face was not unsure but secure as he gazed lovingly at his wife. Mary went back to her dishes, George to his paper.

Wendy watched her parents from the hall with a queer expression. She looked to her mother that kiss, always that kiss just for George, and never her.


	19. Chapter 19 Pie Crusts and Carrots

My Darling Love

Chapter 19 – Pie Crusts and Carrots

"_Let's not forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives and we obey them without realizing it."_

_-Vincent Van Gogh_

The summer came and went and now it was autumn. Everyday Wendy changed just a little more. She was no longer a little girl but not yet a young lady. Caught between what she was and what she was to become was troublesome and confusing. She felt lost, her brothers would play with one another and get filthy outside, and Wendy, although she wanted to play with them, didn't want to climb trees or roughhouse. She would suggested they throw a tea party and they would flee, not even willing to humor her with her china set.

But if she were to tell a story, she would have their complete attention, until the part where it ended with a kiss. "Why do your stories always have to end with a kiss? I'll never let a girl kiss me! Yuck," Michael would say as the end neared.

"Girls like stupid girly things like kissing," John would answer before he tried to lure his sister into a sword fight.

Wendy watched her mother and Aunt Millicent talk secrets in the kitchen, at dinner and in the parlor late in the evening. She knew they were secrets because they kept their voices low. And after the children went to bed and Wendy looked down from the top of the stairs, she would see her mother and Aunt Millicent giggle to one another, carrying on in their own world of womanly adventures.

All adult conversations Wendy witnessed made no sense at all to her, the same expressions and proper terminologies that had once baffled Mary when she was that age now mystified her daughter. Wendy noticed things about her mother she never had before, emotions she didn't understand. Alone in bed, she often thought of her queries, "What is it that mother and father do when alone in their room together? What do they talk about? (Why must the room be locked?) What did she see in him that made her want to marry him? Why does she love him more than anyone else? What makes my father so special?"

She found no answers by simple observation. To her daughter, Mary was a magical creature full of mysteries. John and Michael didn't care, responding to her musings with, "Mother is a girl." Wendy couldn't ask George and would never ask Aunt Millicent.

Finally, she asked Grandpa Joe. "Why does mother always serve father his dinner first?" Wendy's first of many questions about her parents and their life and love.

"Because he is her husband and he works a long day. He has lunch at one, so by the time he comes home, he is the hungriest. Plus, it's his food on the table, and being the man of the house and the provider, being served his supper first is his reward. When I was the man of my house, my wife always served me first. But I'll tell you this much, Wendy, rest assured, if there wasn't enough for everyone to eat, your father would be getting served his supper last."

Grandpa Joe had taken the children to the park on a Sunday afternoon after church, and Wendy sat beside him on the bench.

"Why?" Wendy asked, a favorite and very popular question of all children.

"Well Wendy, that's what the man of the house does, when there is plenty to eat he gets rewarded and when there's not he goes without."

"What do Aunt Millicent and mother talk about all the time," her second question.

"Ladies' things, I guess. As you get older, Wendy, you will want to talk about silly womanly things yourself. Now, you have to understand dearest, I'm a man, and those topics your mother and Aunt Millicent delight in have no interest to me. So, I'm not really sure what they're always giggling and whispering about. How about, when you start to do those things with you mother and Millie, you tell me what all the chatting is about?" Grandpa Joe's answer made Wendy laughed, but she did agree. To show her sincerity, they shook on it.

Wendy's questions went on for an hour. Grandpa Joe was amused by her curiosity and did his very best to give her the proper explanations, but there were some questions not even he had the answer for.

"How did father and mother meet?"

Grandpa Joe rubbed his chin and gave it some thought, "Well, I always assumed that I had introduced them for the first time, but my assumption was incorrect. If I remember what your father told me, he had seen your mother from a distance many times before they met in person." He leaned closer to Wendy and whispered, "Can you keep a secret?" She nodded, quite pleased to be engaging in a private conversation, like her mother.

"Your mother met your father at a party when she was sixteen, although they were not formally introduced, well, not to each other. Now you can never repeat to this to a living soul, Wendy, for your mother swears this never happened, although your father has confirmed its truth and, after he gave me the account of what occurred in great detail, I remember it happening as well."

Grandpa Joe moved mouth to ear with Wendy and spoke as softly as he could, "It was a winter cotillion at the house of your father's parents, it was the first grown-up party your mother was ever allowed to attend. We went as a family, your mother, Grandma Elizabeth and myself dressed in our finest. Your mother wore of dress of deepest blue; Aunt Millicent picked it out and decorated it with all the accessories. Anyway, your mother had such a good time and was not at a loss for admirers. In fact, it was your Uncle Peter who seemed to be occupying most of her time. Now, I put my foot down, being her father, Uncle Peter was already well over thirty, and Mary Elizabeth a young girl of sixteen," Grandpa Joe pulled away and sat back gazing off into the sky, "I'd heard rumors about Peter, and I didn't want him spending any time near my Mary..."

Wendy was confused, was that the secret? And more importantly, "What rumors, Grandpa Joe?" Her grandfather' attention snapped back from his memory of the night, and he shook his head, "Not important nor proper for a young girl like you to hear talk like that, anyway..."

He dipped his head back down to her, reiterating her promise, "Now remember Wendy, not a word to anyone. Your father was staring at your mother from across the room all night, kind of the way he does now, as if awe of her splendor. Finally he got up enough courage and asked her if she would like some punch. Oh, course she did, she had been dancing all night, and as he returned with it, he accidentally tripped over your Uncle Peter's foot. Now, Wendy if you ask me, I think Peter purposely tripped him. But he fell nonetheless spilling punch all over your mother and her pretty dress. And when it could not possibly get any worse for your poor father, your mother slapped him and broke his spectacles calling him, I believe the exact words she used were, 'a clumsy perverted fool.' For when he fell forward he mindlessly brushed his hand over her breast. It created a huge scene that stopped the party. Your father tried to apologize but he slipped in split punch and was so nervous and ashamed to have insulted your mother that he only stuttered something about her breasts and she slapped him again. Between you and me Wendy, that is why you Grandma Elizabeth and Grandma Josephine never cared for one another."

"And still they got married? Why?" Wendy had never heard such a story, and if anyone ever spilled even a drop of punch on her dress, she was sure that would be reason enough to squash an engagement.

Grandpa Joe rested back again and spread his arms out over the bench, sighing deeply, "I don't know." He then quickly leaned forward and rested his elbows on his lap, making his statement sound as though it were incomprehensible to him, "Your mother swears that never happened! Do you understand, Wendy? She would swear on a stack of Bibles that not only did she never slap your father twice at the same party, but also that she was never even at that party. I was at that party," he declared pointing to his chest, "and I remember your mother being there, and I remember your father spilling the punch and then getting slapped, and your mother says that none of that ever happened. She called me a silly old fool when I told her I was sure it did happen just that way."

"Why would she say it never happened like that, Grandpa Joe?" Wendy was not as interested in that mystery as she was in others, but curious now of her mother and her secrets just the same.

"It is truly an enigma of being a lady. Now if she said it was not your father but another, I would say she was confused, but to deny the entire event, well that is just ... unfathomable."

As the afternoon sun was setting into evening, and the dinner hour grew closer, they walked home as Wendy continued her interrogation. "Why are we not allowed in mother and father's room? What do they do in there when they are alone?"

Grandpa Joe had held his laughter at most of her questions, not wanting to make her feel silly, but this brought out a guffaw. "You are not allowed in their room because that is the rule. You are their children and you live with them in their home and everything they have is yours -- except what's in their bedroom. What they do in their room is their business and no one else's. That's part of being married. If you don't understand that Wendy, then you need to ask your mother."

Wendy would never dare ask her mother, but she imagined well enough. In her mind, they slept there, they dressed there, but never saw the other naked, and they told secrets about the neighbors and kissed. When the old man and the young girl reached the door of their home, Wendy asked one final question. "Grandpa Joe, why does father wish mother happy anniversary in July when they were married in November?"

Grandpa Joe often asked himself the same question. Mary and George were engaged in May, so if they celebrated their engagement, the date would be May. Just as befuddled as his granddaughter, he escorted her through the door and said, "Honestly, Wendy, that is another thing about your parents I find rather perplexing myself."

And so time went on and everything in Wendy's world continued to change. She felt it unfair, nothing seemed different for John and Michael; they were still boys. As they grew taller, Mary bought them larger sizes in the same style of clothes. But as Wendy grew, her mother presented her with entirely new attire. She now had to wear constrictive undergarments to hold in the small slopes that had developed over the summer on her chest.

George told John and Michael that they were to give Wendy her complete privacy when she was in the bath. "Under no circumstances are you to disturb her when she bathes or when she dresses." Nana, hearing George's strict tone complete with shaking finger, stood guard whenever Wendy set off to the washroom.

Her dresses became more form fitting to accent the curves that were becoming evident, and now Mary combed Wendy's hair up and off her face in a simple twist or ponytail with pretty curls, where she once let it hang free. "I'm sorry, Wendy but I must braid it this way." If Wendy were to protest and suggest, "Maybe it would easier to just cut it short mother, I actually might like it that way," Mary would swiftly nip the idea in the bud with, "proper young ladies do not have short hair." The only relief Wendy got was in the evening after her bath when she wore her bedclothes. They never changed, and with her hair washed and dried she was allowed to leave it down and flowing freely.

Aunt Millicent began to take notice of Wendy, constantly asking her to step forward and turn around, almost as if she was being appraised as a walking horse. She complied, chuckling with her brothers who were mocking her "girly twirl," as they called it. Aunt Millicent would take note of her and then turn to George and Mary and shake her head, "Not yet, but almost." Aunt Millicent grinned from ear to ear, not once hiding the impending doom of Wendy's inevitable maturity.

"Soon she will be a young woman and do the things young women do. She needs her own room. Mary you should look through all her dresses and select those that are proper for a girl her age and discard the rest. She should not spend so much time with her brothers, but with you Mary. After school she should began her classes with me." Aunt Millicent was lecturing George and Mary after the children went to bed. Wendy was listening with her brothers from the top of the stairs, as they sat in the parlor.

"Can't Mary teach Wendy those things? That is what we had discussed," George offered.

"George, do you want Wendy to endure the same things Mary has all these years? No, of course you don't. You want Wendy, your only daughter, to have a house with servants and be a proper lady who doesn't have to lift a finger. With all due respect to my dearly departed sister-in-law, Mary was never properly presented to polite society. I had suggested a coming-out party, but she scoffed at the expense, and therefore she was not introduced and given an opportunity to meet all the handsome gentlemen that were out and about. Mary is so lucky she found you, George." Aunt Millicent had a way of softening the blow that she still felt George had not been the best choice. She knew, as well as most, that had Mary been "introduced" she would have married the biggest fish and never even met George.

"Well, when Wendy feels she is ready, Aunt Millicent," Mary answered. "I don't want to rush her into anything if she is uncomfortable. Thirteen going on fourteen is a very difficult time for a girl. Feelings develop that were never there before. I want to give her as much time as she needs."

Aunt Millicent nodded her head, not in agreement but with acceptance to Mary's request. "Just make sure she is ready before her monthlies begin."

"Monthlies?" Wendy, Michael and John lined at the top step looked to one another with quizzical expressions.

Whatever the word meant made George cough on his scotch. Mary shook her head and looked to George with raised brow. "Wendy will begin menstruation very soon. Best have her in her own room by then." With her last sentiment complete, Aunt Millicent rose and departed to her cab waiting outside.

Grandpa Joe sat sitting in his favorite chair puffing on his pipe. He did not rise like George and Mary did to be polite and see his sister to the door, only waved with a grin to her as she left. With her gone, George and Mary sat back down and began talking quietly back and forth. John and Michael headed back to the nursery on Nana's insistence, but Wendy stayed.

Feeling now would be a good time to ask his question, he did. "Why do you celebrate your anniversary in July if you were married in November?" Both George and Mary stopped whispering and turned to Grandpa Joe, then to each other. George became nervous and started to stutter a reply. Wendy, hidden at the top of the stairs quietly descended almost to the bottom, wanting to hear for herself. Mary put her hand on George's arm and silently indicated she would answer.

"The day I ran away, George and I promised one another and God that night we would be together forever." Grandpa Joe knew what Mary was talking about and needed no further details or explanation.

Wendy, on the other hand, was oblivious to this revelation. It seems her mother had run away with her father, and they promised each other and God "forever". Forever is an awfully long time, Wendy thought, and that is why their room is special. For whatever "forever" means must be in there.

The holiday season was again upon them, and snow began to fall. Mary decorated the tree along with the children, and let Michael put the star on top, as it was his turn this year. They hung their stockings and helped their mother straighten the house for their annual Christmas Party. The children were excused from school for their winter holidays, and they ran all the way home.

Tonight was Christmas Eve; Father Christmas would come and bring presents that were to be opened with care. With table set and the family gathered around it, they waited for George who was already an hour late. Mary began pacing the front foyer, as the children grew hungry and impatient. Finally at seven thirty, he arrived and was rushed to the table by Mary. A little perturbed that he hadn't sent word he would be stopping by the pub with a few gents from work, she served George his dinner last.

After dinner came dessert, and after dessert came a short nap for the children. They were awakened and taken to church for late mass. Home from church, they ran into the house, Father Christmas had indeed been there, leaving gifts for each of them in every imaginable shape and size. The children barreled through their gifts without breathing or watching anything else except their own enjoyment.

Wendy followed her brothers' example for a few minutes before noticing the grown ups opening their gifts. Grandpa Joe got a new pipe from George, and Mary bought him a tie, his sister gave him new cuff links for his dress shirts. Father Christmas gave him a bathrobe and slippers. Father himself got a new pocket watch from mother, as well as her favorite cologne she chose for him special, and a new leather spectacle case. A new wallet from came from Aunt Millicent and Grandpa Joe got him a tie and handkerchiefs. Other gifts were a razor and fancy shaving set. Aunt Millicent got a collar pin with a pretty red stone from mother and father and "trashy novel" from Grandpa Joe, who called it that. She also received a pretty purple parasol and matching scarf and hat. Mother was the only one forgotten by Father Christmas. Aunt Millicent gave mother perfume and Grandpa Joe gave her a new hair clip, just like the one from her drawer, but not bent or with stones missing, brand new in a velvet box.

The cowardly king never gave the queen anything for Christmas but a peck on the cheek and an "I told you not to buy me anything for Christmas, I thought we agreed." Wendy thought by now he would just know to get her something. But this Christmas was different.

With everyone done unwrapping their gifts, George went to the foyer and came back with his coat. From it he pulled a long velvet box, similar to Grandpa Joe's hair clip and presented it to Mary. "Happy Christmas, Mary." George said as he handed it to her.

Without even looking at what was in the box, Mary clutched her hand to her neck and replied, "Oh George, you shouldn't have." Despite her words, she wore a smile the children had never seen. Grandpa Joe also wore a new smile, one of pride at his lovely daughter worthy of such a gift. She opened the box and looked at the contents. Without a word, she dropped the box putting her hand to her mouth and ran up the stairs to her room.

The children watched after her with their mouths gaped open, baffled by her behavior. "Mother was crying," Michael said, he being the last one able to see her go.

Aunt Millicent picked up the box. Inside were three pieces of carrot. "What is this?" Aunt Millicent queried with an annoyed and insulting tone.

"It was to be a joke." George stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up.

George slowly began to go up, stopping half way watching his bedroom door. Mary came out fixing her face, she had been crying, and walked down past him without saying a word. As she entered the parlor she reminded the children of their stockings full of treats and they went to them, not as happy as they normally would be with their sweets.

The children dumped the candy and chocolate onto the floor and began trading the pieces back and forth, arguing over the unfair swapping. Mary sat nearest Aunt Millicent whispering secrets and Grandpa Joe got up to speak with George, still on the stairs. After a few moments both George and Grandpa Joe returned and suggested Wendy and the boys tell a story. "I want to see you in your costumes, and there must be a sword fight!" he insisted.

The boys raced upstairs, but Wendy stayed behind. She walked to Mary and said, "Mother, I didn't get you anything for Christmas, but if you want my bracelet back, you can have it."

"No, Wendy, that is your bracelet. I want you to have it." Mary got up and hugged her daughter before taking her upstairs. She helped the children dress up and introduced them and the play they were to present. "The children have entitled it 'The Knight That Came For Christmas." Wendy chose a story about a beautiful queen who was kidnapped by a pirate captain only to be rescued by a brave knight who gave up his reward to the king. "You have to kiss for the story to have a happy ending," Wendy told her parents.

George and Mary brushed lips quickly and everyone cheered. "Off to bed!" Mary commanded and the children went.

With the children in bed, George and Mary cleaned up the mess together without speaking and retired upstairs. Alone in the privacy of their room, George apologized. "A few gentlemen from work have done it to their wives and they thought it rather silly." He hoped she would see the humor, chuckling.

She wanted to tell him that a real gift of carat diamonds was sure to be in the next box, or disguised in another present, but she saw he felt embarrassed already, so she didn't feel it was necessary to prolong his suffering.

When George commented that he was going to tell his chums that his wife didn't think it funny, she responded, "Tell them I thought it was very amusing."

George tried to cheer her up with some affection, but Mary declined, "I have a headache George." She turned over without relinquishing his kiss, and went to sleep.

Christmas morning at the Darling Residence meant Mary was up at the crack of dawn cooking her holiday feast. For the first time ever, Wendy decided not to play with her gifts like John and Michael but help her mother. In the kitchen, Mary showed her how to make the dressing for the goose and the proper way to fit the piecrust in the pie pan without it cracking. Mary had a good deal more skill with baking, and the piecrust Wendy made fell apart and could not be salvaged.

Grandpa Joe was in the kitchen arguing quietly with his daughter as Wendy held her ruined dessert. Mary was losing her patience with whatever Grandpa Joe was insisting on, and she walked over to Wendy and grabbed the pan she was holding. "See father, promises from George are like pie crusts, easily made and easily broken." With that she dumped the pan in the dustbin and continued in the kitchen without another word to Grandpa Joe.

Mary had no sharp words for her daughter. Wendy was ready to run for her life with her mother's outburst, but Mary only said, "It's alright, Wendy, let us try again. The only way you will learn is to make mistakes, and nothing you are being taught will be mastered in the first lesson."

Wendy's next attempt was a success, and Mary commented, "Your pie will be the most delightful dessert." Together they cooked and baked, and when they were finished, they cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom. Mary directed Wendy to set the table, and she did. With everything in order the family was called to the table and everyone sat down to eat the delectable feast mother and daughter had prepared together.

"Where is your Aunt Millicent, Mary?" George asked his wife conversationally, hoping, to bring her into a more cheerful mood.

"I'm not sure, George, she said she was coming," Mary responded matter-of-factly.

"Not like Millie to miss a free meal," Grandpa Joe put in his penny's worth. He was the only one who called her Millie, and it made the children giggle.

A moment before the supper prayer began; Aunt Millicent barged through the front door, out of breath. Still in her coat and hat she sat at the table a breathed a sigh of relief. From her purse, she pulled the same box George had given to Mary yesterday, but this time without the vegetables. "For you, my favorite niece, whom I consider my own daughter." Aunt Millicent presented Mary with the box and she opened it.

"Oh my God, Aunt Millicent, it's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." It was a necklace of teardrop emeralds in gold a gold setting, five of them dangling, refracting the light of the dining room, the perfect decoration for the necklines Mary always wore on special occasions.

"I don't know how you got by in Paris with all of Peter's wealthy friends without a proper necklace. Whatever they must of thought of Peter's brother to let his wife go around without the proper accessories coordinated to her outfits. I hope you had the good sense, Mary Elizabeth, to lie for your husband, and tell your new friends you were terrified to travel with your jewelry!"

Her insult was a direct assault on George's heart and manhood. He lowered his head and looked at his plate. Mary approached Aunt Millicent, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Grandpa Joe helped Mary put it on, and she modeled it with pride. The children, never seeing such an expensive item on their mother, stared and gave her compliments.

Aunt Millicent never knew when to keep her mouth shut. As quickly as she could be raised to the throne in the lovely Queen's kingdom, she had a way about her that caused the Queen to kick her right back off. She saw how Mary showed off the gift to her husband and how embarrassed he was, only managing, "It very nice, not as beautiful as you, though," so she gave what she believed the final thrust of her sword into the king's heart.

"Your previous fiancé, Mary Elizabeth, the man you should have obviously married, gave that necklace to me to hold for a wedding present. He'd planned to give it to you himself on your wedding night. After you married George, he told me to keep it for you anyway, as this man you call a husband would surely never be able to buy you such a gift." Aunt Millicent victoriously smiled about the table.

The children never knew there was a bigger fish, but Wendy knew by the look on her father's face that it was Aunt Millicent and not the pirate captain who would defeat the cowardly king.

"Mother, you were to be married to someone else?" The words left the children's mouths faster than their innocent minds could contain them.

Mary got up from the table, no food had been served and no joyous conversations had yet begun. She yanked the gift from her neck and threw it down on her empty plate, with an expression of unquestionable horror, suddenly replaced by a blank stare.

Mary Elizabeth, serve our family their supper." George directed, touching her shoulder as she pushed back her chair. "It's getting cold on the table."

Both children and adults were silent, for George never called Mary by her full name. Mary turned to George and responded trying to choke back her tears, "No George, please. You serve the children their supper" and left the dining room. She had already run up to her room the night before, and with no other rooms left for privacy, she put on her coat and hat and walked out the front door.

All eyes were on her as she made her way out, and only George rose to stop her. "Let her go, George, she'll come home when she's ready. Serve the children their dinner," Grandpa Joe assured his son-in-law. George did what Grandpa Joe recommended and everyone ate in a strange and disturbing silence. The children darted their attentions between George, Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent. Their normal entertainment for Christmas supper was cheerful talk and loads of laughter. Instead, they saw their father eat his dinner while staring at the centerpiece of fresh winter flowers on the table. They never left the spot, not even when he lowered his fork to his plate and up to his mouth. Grandpa Joe glared at Millicent, while Millicent stared at her plate, terrified to meet anyone's eyes, especially the children's.

The holidays were supposed to be happy times, but this Christmas was the worst. The children ate their desserts alone in the dining room, forgotten then as the grown ups went into the kitchen and quarreled loudly. "I cannot believe your audacity Millicent to bring such a thing as that gaudy necklace into this house! And to speak of Mary's previous fiancé in front of George's children! If this were my house, I'd throw you out on your ear! As a matter of fact, I think that is just what I will do!" Grandpa Joe snapped the moment Millicent stepped into the kitchen, being yanked from the dining room by her fragile arm at the mercy of her brother. She fared no better with George who shouted, "If you dislike me so much Millicent, then I suggest you simply stay away from my wife, my children, my home and my dinner table!" What could Aunt Millicent do, except cry? So she did.

No one was there to put the children to bed only their father telling them, "Please tuck yourselves in this evening, children."

They were not ready to go to bed, wanting their mother. Thinking better of asking for her, hearing the raised voices resuming in the kitchen, not to mention, Aunt Millicent's wails, the children conceded defeat on the matter and went to the nursery. Soon John and Michael fell asleep but Wendy stayed awake and waited. Every other year, before their guests arrived, Mary would come in and talk with the children, telling them to behave and not make noise, and never go to the stairs and peek down. This year she never came, and Wendy got up to investigate her disappearance.

The party was already in full swing with Aunt Millicent acting as hostess. Forced into service by her brother, with the threat of, "If you say one more unkind word about my son-in-law, your ear is not where you will land when I throw you out of this house!" Her eyes were puffy and her makeup smeared and still she managed a cheerful, "Hello, please come in and enjoy yourselves!" as she opened the front door for the guests and gathered the coats and hats.

Wendy saw an older woman ask George about his wife, and he replied, "She's not feeling well and is lying down."

Wendy went to her parent's room and knocked on the door. No one answered. Hearing her grandfather's hearty laugh bellowing below, she turned the knob and entered. Mary was not in her room; the bed was empty and made. Her pretty dress for the night's festivities was laid out upon it, as well as her shoes on the floor next to the bed.

"Wendy Angelina Darling, how many times do I have to tell you not to enter my bedroom?" It was her father's voice. As she turned to see him, she saw his face was angry, but at the same time lost. He shut his door and locked it, before returning his attention to her. "Why must you always be so stubborn Wendy?" George sneered. "Must you break my rules even on Christmas?"

Wendy teetered on her bare feet. She didn't know how to respond except to say, "I'm sorry father."

He was unimpressed by her apology, and snarled, "Maybe I should give you a good swift spanking to teach you a lesson then?"

That she could answer, "No father, I really am sorry. I was just worried about mother." She was truly concerned her mother was lost and so was he. Therefore he commanded, "Go to your room Wendy, now." She obeyed, and without another word stepped back from her parent's room. George watched her slowly walk back to the nursery. Once inside and in her bed, she heard her father lock the door to the nursery as well.


	20. Chapter 20 Wendy, You're a Woman!

Rated R: Sexual Content

My Darling Love

Chapter 20 – Wendy, You're a Woman

"_How like a queen comes forth the lonely Moon from the slow opening curtains of the clouds walking in beauty to her midnight throne"  
-George Croly_

Mary left the Darling Residence that Christmas Day and headed out into the dark snow-covered street. She had no idea of where to go, and so she visited the places where she and George had lived together. She walked past the old Darling House, now a law firm. She went to the park where they had first kissed. She wanted to visit their first flat they called home on their wedding night, but knew it had too be torn down for bigger and better things. She ended her journey at her Aunt Millicent's home, a large and grand mansion, sitting dark in the middle of a street where, in other homes, much merriment was taking place.

She used her key and entered. Aunt Millicent had many more rooms the Darling Residence. Formal parlors and sitting rooms filled with expensive sofas and chairs, never sat in. A grand ballroom and dining room off the grander kitchen, never used by anyone, not even Aunt Millicent. There was several washrooms and at the very least ten bedrooms but it felt more like a museum than a home. All the servants of the mansion, and there were twelve, had been dismissed for the holiday, and not a peep could be heard, but Mary's shoes tapping the marble floors as she walked across them. She went upstairs to the room Aunt Millicent kept for her when she stayed there as a young girl.

The bedchamber was untouched through time, with the exception of cleaning, for not a speck of dust was found within. All of Mary's old party dresses; shoes and accessories still hung in the wardrobe and dressers. Mary looked through everything and selected a divine cobalt blue ensemble that had always been her favorite. She had worn that exact dress to the old Darling home for a winter cotillion the year she turned sixteen. It was ruined by punch that night, but cleaned correctly and just as beautiful as the fateful night she had worn it last.

Her father had not lied to his granddaughter. Mary claimed she had absolutely no recollection of what transpired that night, and no memory of being in the Darling House at all before the time of their engagement dinner.

"She's still in shock over the assault," Aunt Millicent whispered to Mrs. Baker after Mary commented, "Is it not odd, Mother, that George has lived practically down the street his whole life and we never met."

Mary put on the matching slippers and fastened the necklace and earrings purchased specially to complete the outfit. Her hair and makeup was already done, and she did a little touching up. She'd brought Grandpa Joe's hair clip with her, and now she set it perfectly in the back of her head. Ready to dance, drink and gossip the night away she departed back home.

Visiting Aunt Millicent's house was the closest she would ever come to imagining herself the bigger fish's wife. In her own home, she could dress and primp herself by spinning around and never taking more than one step to and fro from what she needed. In her bedchamber at Aunt Millicent's she found herself out of breath walking the distance to and fro from vanity to wardrobe back.

Not wanting to walk home, she hailed a cab, and it brought her to her front door. She paid the fare and then strolled through the snow barefoot to the back door, holding up her dress, when she sneaked in.

"Ah Mary, there you are!" a few of her guests greeted her as she entered. And as always, whenever she entered any room, all eyes were on her.

This Christmas party was special; George was up for a very big promotion. For the first time in his career, he was in line for the position of bank manager. George had invited many of his associates, including the bank's president, to the party and all were in attendance. "Feeling better dear?" Mrs. Couch smiled wryly, as she made her way through the throngs of people drinking and enjoying themselves.

"Very much so, thank you. What a lovely dress you have on, is that not the one that hung in the window on First Street? That dress shop is so expensive but all of the gowns within are worth every penny if you ask me, what wonderful taste you have." Mary made conversation with a smile, very adept at small talk.

"Yes dear, as a matter of fact it is," Mrs. Couch leaned into Mary's ear, "cost Edward a fortune, he choked on his soup when I handed him the bill. And I must say, you look ravishing, my dear. Blue is definitely your color."

George was on the other side of the room, sitting alone on the sofa. He was quite nervous and terrible at small talk and witty conversation, especially when uncomfortable.

Mary had told her father how her husband blended in well in Paris with Peter's friends, drinking, cavorting and carry on effortlessly with the other wealthy gentleman. "He was different there, Father. It was as if I left my George in London, and went to Paris with a stranger."

George was in London now, not Paris, and still he was stranger in his own home with his guests mingling about. He sat wringing his hands with his head lowered, stuttering responses to those who addressed him, only embarrassing himself further. "Mary Elizabeth, I think George has died a thousand deaths without you by his side. Happy to see you feeling better," Grandpa Joe whispered to her, adding a peck on her pretty cheek.

George raised his head in time to see Mary in her glory watching him from where she stood. Her beauty made his heart melt. As their eyes met from across the room, it was as if they were the only two present. He got up to meet her and an older man stopped him and shook hands, "Sorry, George, for the delay I know I promised yesterday, but you said you wanted it to be perfect." George took whatever it was in the satin box from the man, the thing that needed to be perfect, and met his wife in the center of the room.

Grandpa Joe, aware of what was coming tinged his glass to gain everyone's attention.

George cleared his throat, and spoke with unaccustomed confidence. "I wanted to thank everyone for coming tonight, and I hope you are having a good time. I have a Christmas present for my wife, Mary, and if you don't mind, I would like to give it to her now." George turned to Mary and held both her hands in his. "Mary, we've been married fourteen years now, and it's taken me this long to save up for a gift that would be equal to your beauty. Even after all this time, I still could not find anything that parallels your elegant grace, style and splendor. I think it would take me longer than forever to save enough to even come close to a gift worthy of you, and wanting to get you something this year, I had to settle for this."

He lifted the large square satin box he had just received from the old man and opened it, showing her its contents. Mary went wide-eyed, put her hand to her head and fainted.

Luckily, the gentleman standing behind her watching caught her, and after the chuckles she was taken to the sofa and rested with George and Grandpa Joe fanning her back to consciousness. "If you don't like it, we could return it and trade it in for something else," George told her as she her eyes opened.

"No, George, this is the most perfect thing I have ever scene in my entire life -- next to our precious babies when they were born." It was necklace of simple gold, lined with carat diamonds, each accented with smaller diamonds around. The jewels ran all the way around from clasp to clasp.

"I wanted to give it to you yesterday, but it was not ready," George said, as he lifted his wife to her feet and traded her costume jewelry for the real thing.

"George, this must have cost you a fortune! Why would you do something like this? I don't deserve a gift such as this." Mary was crying, she had only seen things such as these in the windows of the finest jewelers, where no one but richest and regal entered, or the Tower of London where the Crown Jewels were kept.

"You are worth every cent and much much more." George kissed his wife and held her close. "And you look magnificent tonight."

Mary and George slipped out of the room and into the kitchen, exchanging lengthy apologies, both weeping a bit as they choked out their words. "I'm sorry I played that joke on you, Mary, your father told me I was to give you the real diamonds first and then the carrots after saying something silly such as 'after the necklace I could not afford the matching earrings' or some such nonsense ..."

Mary's was the more detailed regret, "I should have put my foot down and thrown my Aunt Millicent into the street for the way she spoke of you at your own dining table, with the children present! George, how could I do that to you?" Mary felt weak and leaned on George for support to remain standing. "And then my father, I was cruel to him, he told me of the necklace and your promise and I was so angry, George, I told him of Paris, please don't be angry. I don't think he thinks ill of you and he told me he wouldn't speak of it, but please forgive me. I love you George so much, I don't want you to ever think I wish I'd married the other man. He could never give me this life I have, and this life I love."

Their sentiments were completed and George kissed Mary. It was a simple peck on the lips. He stood back and offered her his arm, which she accepted. As they strolled from the kitchen corner they had made their peace in, past the pantry, Mary shoved an unsuspecting George inside. He fell up against the wall, and Mary, reminded of the quickies her husband seemed so fond of in Paris, dropped to her knees and unfastened his dress pants. In moments, his eagerly excited manhood was engulfed in her warm, wet mouth. George could do nothing but shut his eyes tightly and bite his finger to keep from groaning loudly at her skillful tongue. Mary licked her lips when he was completed and casually asked, "Did I muss my makeup George?" She hadn't and he told her and with that all was forgiven. George and Mary returned to their party and danced the night away with one another.

Wendy watched from the top of the stairs. She had gone to bed, but not to sleep. Grandpa Joe had snuck up to the nursery to check on the children a short time before and left the door to the room unlocked when he left, tempting Wendy into escaping once again. As soon as she heard her mother's name called out as she entered, Wendy stood at the top of the stairs and waited. She stayed there all night long and watched the dancing and party going on below. If this is what it meant to be a grown up, for the first time, Wendy was not scared. The bank's president stood in the hall doorway also glancing about at the guests. He did not move one inch all night, he held the same drink and talked with two other men who looked just as important, nodding and sticking out their lower lips. When Mrs. Couch got tipsy and began singing songs by the piano with Grandpa Joe calling loudly for everyone to gather around her and join in, Sir Edward decided it was time to go. He shook George's hand and Mary kissed his cheek. Mr. Couch blushed and smiled. "Fine party, George, see you on Monday. Why don't you stop by my office, say nine o'clock?"

Monday evening, everyone in the Darling Family waited expectantly for George to return home from work. "We should not ask the moment he walks through the door, and no one should congratulate him until he tells us that he did, in fact, get the promotion," Grandpa Joe advised as George approached the house.

He entered and removed his coat and hat. "Good evening, what's for supper?"

Mary didn't have to be told; she already knew by looking at his face, he didn't get the promotion. As they walked to the dinner table she embraced him. "I'm sorry, George." She kissed him and held him tighter when she could see his hard shell that protected his guarded emotions was cracking. George quickly wiped his eyes under his spectacles and escorted his wife to her seat. Not only was he served first, but he also got an extra helping of dessert after his dinner.

"What did he say?" Mary asked as they retired to bed that night. She was sitting at her vanity brushing her hair and he was buttoning his pajama top on the bed.

"He said that he had not yet made any decisions on who would get the manager position, and wanted to thank me for my invitation to the party."

Mary smiled and turned to face George, brush still in hand, "George, I thought he told for sure you didn't get it."

George removed his glasses and lay in bed under the blankets. "If he didn't tell me today then I already know I didn't get it. He prefers John Peters, more personable or so I'm told. Plus the other gentlemen find him likeable -- he always buys the first round of drinks on Friday night after work in the pub."

Mary got up and walked to her side of the bed, "All is not lost, dearest. I do not think Sir Edward frequents the pub on Friday nights. And as far as being personable and likeable, a bank manager should not be best friends of those he is supervising, more so he should be respected and knowledgeable of how to properly balance all the ledgers and accounts when there is error in the totals, like you can. And I'm sure Sir Edward, being a shrewd business man, will hold that in a much higher regard." She kissed his forehead and then waited, staring at him, batting her eyes.

He was looking at his hands still saddened that this was not a night of celebration he imagined.

"George, kiss me."

He leaned over and pecked her lips.

"No George, not like that. Like this." She bent over him and gently brushed her lips to his. She removed them, and dipped in again, this time brushing her tongue over his lips, and then began to explore. He answered her kiss and her tongue. She began to unbutton his pajama top, and when it was open, she moved her hand down into his pajama bottoms. As they continued to kiss, she stroked his member. He moved his mouth from hers to groan his enjoyment of her handiwork while she placed her lips elsewhere kissing and licking his neck, tempting him further.

Mary got up from the bed and removed her robe. She slid the ties of her nightgown down and turned her back to him. She let it slide down slowly, gradually revealing her bare back and buttocks. His eyes grew wide at the unveiling of her loveliness -- so like the paintings in the museums. She walked nude to the bedroom door and locked it. Mary, still mindful of her scars, still held her robe in front of her as she turned back to face him. He watched her make her way back to the bed and sit down, still with her back to him.

George never saw her scars. He watched the way her skin moved on her flawless frame. She seemed to glide across the floor when she moved. He watched and waited; she mounted him little by little never letting her eyes move from his. They met in a kiss as he gripped her hips and began forcing her down on to him at more rapid pace as if to scratch the deep itch she had created by her alluring behavior. She moaned his name and held the headboard; he kept kissing down her neck to her breast. He came faster than he wanted to, and she slid off to lay on her back, only to pull him on top of her, not yet satisfied with their interlude.

George accommodated her request by entering her again, and now it was his turn to make her beg. He resumed his motions at a very leisurely pace. He would stop and only enter the head of his member in short thrusting. All at once he would push in hard as far as he could go, causing his lovely wife to gasp, removing himself completely to begin again. After only moments, she was pleading with him, "Please, George, please." He conceded, he too was lost in the ecstasy and began plunging in over and over again. They kissed; she scratched her nails down his back as he gripped the linens, pulling them from the mattress. She reached her completion as he did. And there they stayed, right where they were, and fell asleep joined together as one.

Wendy was not sure what time it was, but it was still very late at night. The sky was dark and full of stars and the moon was quartered. Her brothers were asleep and the house was quiet.

She had a horrible stomachache and it had become too painful to move. She curled up in a ball and began to cry. In the morning, she had not slept a wink, and when she pulled back the covers to get up and ready for breakfast, she let out a blood-curdling scream, "MOTHER!!"

Nana was up and out the nursery door and down the stairs to the kitchen to get Mary, dragging her to Wendy by her skirt. Grandpa Joe was also charging down the hall and up the stairs to his granddaughter's aid when Mary heard Wendy call, dropping the teapot and George's breakfast on the kitchen floor. Grandpa Joe was already there soothing his granddaughter when Mary entered. "It's her time now, Mary," was all her father said as he nodded to her and George, who had followed his wife to the nursery.

Mary slowly pulled back the blankets Wendy held clutched to her throat to see the bloody sheets and Wendy's stained nightgown. "Mother, I'm dying," Wendy whimpered, as George directed the boys to leave them alone.

"Down to breakfast, your sister will be fine, mother will look after her now." John and Michael were led away grudgingly, and Wendy heard her father, quite exasperated, respond, "No, Michael, Wendy will not be placed under glass until the prince comes..."

Mary looked to her eldest child, her only daughter, and smiled through her tears. "Wendy, you're a woman." Wendy stared at mother, Mary, who held a lovingly adoring gaze and smile at her daughter. "This is the happiest day of my life," Mary softly spoke as she embraced her Wendy and kissed her cheek. "Why are you so happy mother, because I'm dying." Wendy now cried as well.

"No my love, you are not dying...Wendy, you're a woman!" Mary exclaimed again, still hugging Wendy, now more tightly then ever.

Mary wrapped Wendy in John's blanket and took her to the washroom. She ran a warm bath with bubbles and told her to soak. "Just relax, Wendy, and I'll get you some tea," Mary said as she left Wendy submerged in water scented with Mother's perfume.

George waited at the bottom of the stairs with a look of concern on his face. "Is she alright?" he asked, as Mary walked past him into the kitchen.

"She's gotten her first monthly," Mary explained as she served the boys their breakfast. "Would you mind sending the boys off to Aunt Millicent's, Grandpa Joe? I want to keep Wendy home alone with me today."

The boys rolled their eyes and groaned but Grandpa Joe put an end to it with, "I think we'll go to the museum or something instead." The boys liked that idea, especially since it was their winter holiday, and after breakfast, they were off.

George left late for work, wanting to congratulate Wendy on becoming a woman, but thought better of it when he saw the fright still in her face. "Alright, ladies, enjoy your day together," he offered instead, and gave Mary her kiss, bending down a bit to Wendy where he gently pecked her cheek as well.

Mary took Wendy into her room and explained what monthlies were, and why they are important. "When will John and Michael get theirs?" Wendy asked, still not clear on all the details.

"Men don't get monthlies, only women, Wendy. Like I said, women are the ones who have babies and you need to have your monthlies for that to happen." Mary showed her the correct undergarments she would need to wear at that time of the month, and showed her how to mark the calendar, to know when to expect them.

"Mother, do you get monthlies too?"

Mary nodded her head, "Yes, and the stomachaches as well." This was Mary's little white lie to her daughter, since she had not gotten monthlies since before she carried Michael. But just the same, she still kept a calendar as to when they would arrive if she were to have them still. It was the most painful time of the month for her, the week that it never came, reminding her once again that she was to never have another baby. So the stomachache was not a fib, just having to worry after her undergarments. It never bothered George that his wife no longer bled, he felt it a relief to be freed of not only the worry of an unexpected mouth to feed, but the disappointment that came when Mary would respond, "We cannot tonight George, I am having my womanly time." And there were no more times when she had to refuse him "to be safe."

"Men are lucky," Wendy frowned, after Mary explained she would have this to look forward to every month until she was much older.

"Not necessarily. Having a baby is wonderful experience. It's the closet thing to helping God create a miracle that most will ever see. And think of it from the man's point of view as well. Only a woman will ever know what it feels like to have new life inside of her. When the baby moves about and kicks, true, they can rub your belly and feel that one movement, but it is not the same as feeling every single movement. When I carried you, you used to kick me the moment I laid down in bed and I would tell your father that you were wide awake when I wished to sleep. The second he rested his hand on my belly, you stopped, and he never got to feel your tiny little hands and feet jabbing at me from within. Plus Wendy, you must not forget the pain of giving a baby life, that only you will endure..."

Wendy rolled over on her side, filled with misgivings, "That is why it is lucky to be a man, mother. They can sit back and relax drinking their tea and smoking their pipes while women do all the work and suffer the pain."

Mary turned Wendy's head toward her with her hands and kept her face within them, "No, Wendy, it is not like that at all. Your father never drank tea and puffed on a pipe when I was having that pain. He paced the hall and prayed to God that the baby and I would be all right. Do you remember when Michael fell off the swing when he was a toddler in the park and cut his knee?" Wendy nodded. "You cried because Michael was hurting, and he was so small, and there was nothing you could do to help him, or save him, or take away that tiny cut." Wendy again nodded, now staring at her mother, understanding her comparison. "That is the same suffering a man goes through when his wife is to deliver a baby, only many times worse. We mended Michael's cut and he was fine after only a minute. The pain of bringing a baby into this world may last for hours, days sometimes. Your father had to endure all my pain with me, only where mine would subside at times as that pain does, your father's was endless."

"When will I make my first baby?" Wendy queried.

"After you are married. You will meet a man you love, and he will court you and then he will ask for your hand. You will marry, and then when you are ready, a baby will come. Children are magical creatures, they are the perfect combination of two people joined together forever as one. Your father and I made you, John and Michael from our love with God's blessings. You children are our piece of immortality. Even after we are gone, we still will be alive and loved within you." Wendy smiled her first smile of the morning as her mother talked.

"What a wonderful thing it must be!" Wendy cried, "I can't wait for that to happen to me!"

"Oh my dearest, you still have some growing up to do before you get married. But fear not, before you know it you will be a young lady, and all those wonderful things will be moments away. But for now, be happy to be a young girl who is beginning her journey. Enjoy each day, Wendy, for childhood comes only once in a lifetime." Mary kissed Wendy's forehead and put her to bed. "Rest today, no dueling with pirates or having adventures."

In the afternoon Wendy felt better and ventured downstairs where Mary was making cookies and chatting with Grandpa Joe. "Where are John and Michael?" she asked.

"They went for a walk with Nana, be back in a little bit." Grandpa Joe smiled as he walked from the kitchen and patted Wendy on her head. "Wendy, you're a woman, and a very pretty one at that," he added, as he headed to the parlor to puff on his pipe.

Wendy approached her mother, swiftly grabbing her by the arm, "You told Grandpa Joe?" Wendy was still mortified, even though Mary told her there was no reason to be, but still she wanted no one to know.

"Grandpa Joe was married to your grandmother, and she used to get her monthlies too, Wendy, all women do." It didn't ease her mind but she put her worries aside and made her laugh when Mary gave her warm cookie and some milk revealing, "When I first got my monthly, Wendy, your Grandpa Joe fainted at his job and banged his face. He had to see the doctor to get mended after my mother told him. Next time you see your grandfather, look closely at his chin, he has a small scar from that day."

George came home on time and everyone had supper together , then retired to the parlor. Mary played the piano for entertainment, and George sang a song. The children cheered, and John and Michael insisted Wendy tell everyone a story.

Halfway through, without the sword fighting, Aunt Millicent took notice of Wendy. She interrupted Wendy's tale of Cinderella and her two stepsisters who stole her slippers, "Walk this way ,Wendy dear." Wendy abruptly stopped and walked to her Aunt. "Now turn round." So she did, with her brothers chuckling as she went. "Just as I suspected, Wendy possess a young lady's stroll. Have you not noticed, George and Mary?"

Aunt Millicent pulled Wendy into her with her arms and stood, walking around her dissecting every inch of her. "Yes, she also has the posture of a young lady, and her chin, her shoulders, stand up straight dearest. Yes, she is almost a woman."

George and Mary had suspected but were keeping it to themselves. Now confronted by Aunt Millicent, just as they had planned, they played dumb. "But Aunt Millicent, Wendy is only just thirteen," Mary began as she met George, standing behind Wendy, each holding their daughter's shoulders.

"You were once a young lady of thirteen, Mary, my dear. She is not 'just thirteen' as you say. She will be fourteen in April. Now is the time to begin her training. She will need to learn the correct manners and etiquette if you have any hopes of her marrying well," Aunt Millicent assured them. "There are other young ladies that are much further advanced in such lessons at her age, and the longer you wait, the more difficult it will be to break Wendy's bad habits. It is now time for her to grow up."

Where to begin? For poor Wendy, first it was, "Married? I don't want to get married, I just want to have babies like mother." Aunt Millicent was shocked and had to sit down, as were George and Mary, who had stunned faces and open mouths. If that wasn't bad enough her next statement was, "What bad habits?"

Aunt Millicent responded to that one, "Your first statement, Wendy, is a bad habit. Young ladies only speak when spoken to, and never do they say such horrid and offensive things. Women who have babies without being married will never marry anyone of merit and honor." She looked directly at George as she spoke and met Mary's hostile gaze. Wendy was yanked back by her mother.

"That is quite enough, children it is time for bed," Mary instructed, leading them up the stairs but no further.

They went up the stairs and waited in bed, staying awake for almost an hour. Then all three descended the stairs quietly as possible and peeked into the dining room where Aunt Millicent was lecturing George and Mary.

"We have discussed this before. You of course do not want Wendy ending up in the same unfortunate ways you both fell into. This is the way that is correct and you must trust me. We shall start slowly, first now that Wendy has received her monthlies she must have her own room. Grandpa Joe can move in with me, if need be, and she can have his room. Next, everyday after school instead of coming home, she must come to my house and begin her etiquette lessons. I will bring her by for supper. You must keep her away from her brothers; boys are different in what they can get away with. But, George, if I were you, I would have Grandpa Joe talk with them about manly things. He is obviously is more skilled and qualified in those ways, unless you wish them to get a girl in trouble the same as you. And George, you must get the manager's position at the bank. Mary had many options for marriage because her father owned his own business and had servants and such. Mary is now the acting maid, and if you remain a simple clerk, well, that will never do when the true gentlemen come calling."

Aunt Millicent went on and on from there. Michael and John had no idea what she was speaking about, "How did father get a girl in trouble?"

But Wendy, only being a woman for a few hours understood almost all of it, or so she thought. "Apparently father was not who mother wanted to marry, but he got her in trouble, so her punishment was to marry him and be his maid. Remember at Christmas dinner when Aunt Millicent said mother had a previous fiancé that would not marry her because of father?"

Michael and John listened to her explanation of the events leading to where they found themselves now in the nursery. "And you're a lady now and that's why Grandpa Joe has to leave? That's not fair. Father was the one who was bad, he should have to leave."

Wendy nodded her head, "Father got mother in trouble and now I have to grow up."


	21. Chapter 21 Drawing Diaster

My Darling Love

Chapter 21 – Drawing Disaster

"_Good bankers, like good tea, can only be appreciated when they are in hot water."_

-Jaffar Hussein

That night was the first time Wendy met Peter Pan in person. She was pleasantly dreaming of dancing with a proper young gentleman when she felt someone touch her lips.

Before Wendy opened her eyes, she saw her father in her mind. He had just kissed her mother. He waved good-bye and was off to work. Mary turned around and shut the door looking off into the kitchen. Wendy, in her mind's eye, waited at the top of the stairs gazing down at her mother with much wonder. Mary's feet were rooted to the spot she stood and would not move until she felt her mouth and made sure her kiss was still there. Wendy believed, even in her dream, her mother's action was simply to make sure the cowardly king didn't steal the kiss away from her; after all she was saving it for the pirate captain that was to rescue her. But that was not the case at all; Mary wanted to make sure George left her a kiss that she would be able to remember him by all day while he was gone from her side.

Wendy opened her eyes, and there he was, plain as day, floating above her bed in mid-air. When he saw her eyes open, he bolted to the window and out into the night. No one else was awake but Nana, who gave chase.

The next morning, no one in the house seemed to be aware of Peter Pan's entrance into the nursery through the window.Mary gave her children their breakfast and then took them to the market with her. Soon, they would be back to school after their Christmas holidays, but for now, to Mary, the children were all babies that she could spoil again.

"When you return to school, Wendy, you will begin your lessons with Aunt Millicent," George told his daughter over supper, Aunt Millicent grinning with pride at her niece as the words hit Wendy like an arrow through the heart.

"But I am not ready to grow up!" Wendy pleaded with her mother after dinner while she readied for bed.

"Wendy Darling, all children must grow up."

Peter visited her again, then again, night after night, and she told him her stories, all ending happily with a kiss. Peter had no idea what a kiss was, nor the emotions it signified, but he listened to the sword fighting and battling. He had met Captain Hook and told her that her mother would be much happier married to an evil pirate captain than to her wimpy father. "I hate Captain Hook," he told her one night. "He's the most evil and cruel man alive in all the world, but he is no scaredy-cat. I've seen him gut people from neck to navel, and he is the best with a sword, not as good as I, but then -- no one is. Plus he's very wealthy; your mother would live like a queen. You and your brothers could come to Neverland and never have to grow up, ever. We could trick your mother into coming, too, and then she could be rescued by Captain Hook, and he will sail off with her onto the seven seas," Peter suggested.

"Yes, but first they will kiss. She will give him her kiss as a reward for being so brave and then we all will live happily ever after." Wendy agreed.

On the night before she was to return to school and begin her lessons, lessons on how to behave like a proper young woman, Wendy introduced her brothers to Peter and their plot to free Mary from being their father's maid. They were just as eager as she, and approved. "Mother will be so happy!" Michael jumped up and down on his bed as he chimed in.

"Is Captain Hook handsome?" Wendy asked Peter, as he was about to depart. "I cannot have mother married to someone ugly. I do not think my father is at all handsome. He wears spectacles. I hope Captain Hook has no need to wear them. Mother should be married to a man that is very attractive with perfect eyesight. And he should have the proper posture, father always walks around and even sits straight as a board, almost like he is afraid all the time or extremely nervous. Mother should be married to a man that is more at ease, yes and is not afraid to fight someone hand to hand if he had to at a moment's notice," she said.

"He is tall and commanding," Peter replied, after some thought, "and walks around his ship yelling and screaming at his men. Nothing scares him and nothing makes him nervous, he has an answer for everything. He thinks himself smart. Captain Hook has a deep voice, long black curly hair and eyes blue as forget-me-nots. He does have a hook instead of a right hand, so he cannot fight another hand to hand, but I think that only makes him more dangerous, and willing to protect what's his with more confidence." He shrugged. "But if your mother is a queen, I'm sure he will never use it against her. He is old and alone, if your mother's smile is as beautiful and lovely as you say, I'm certain he would be happy and nice. He doesn't wear glasses, and I know he has good eyes, for he sees everything, even things that are hidden. He says he hates children, but that won't matter because once he has your mother, he will sail away with her and we will never have to see him again."

That was the only part that bothered Wendy.

"But she will not want to leave us behind, she still thinks of us as her babies," John interrupted.

"Yes, and mother and Captain Hook will have babies together as well, maybe I will have a sister. Mother says that after two people get married they have a baby," Wendy added.

Michael chimed, "Maybe a brother and a sister, and we can baby-sit like Grandpa Joe!"

"Yes," Peter replied standing before the children with his arm crossed, "your mother will have a baby with Captain Hook, and we can take it away with us as well. That is an even better plan. But Captain Hook will still want to sail away with your mother without you, but only for a short while."

Wendy clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Oh how marvelous for mother, a honeymoon too and then a baby! Father said mother should not have any more children, even though I want a sister. Captain Hook will give mother a baby."

That settled it for Wendy and her brothers. Now, with their scheme arranged, Peter told them he would be back the very next night to collect them all and travel to Neverland. "Make sure you leave the nursery window open, even though it is cold. If your mother shuts it after putting you to bed, just open it again." Peter Pan explained.

Wendy spoke, as Peter was about to take flight, "My Aunt Millicent says I should have my own room, what if I am not in the nursery tomorrow night?"

Peter looked about the room and then peeked outside. "Where will you be, Wendy? I cannot go without you." Wendy went to the door and slowly opened it, pointing the Grandpa Joe's room down the hall. "I will find you, as long as you are in this house," Peter reassured her, stepping out into the night sky.

"Only, Peter, do not waken my parents, theirs is the room next to ours. The front window of the house."

Peter nodded, and leapt out into the night sky, "I know..." he whispered.

Wendy and her brothers went back to school the next day. As creative as Wendy was with her stories, she was just as imaginative with her art. She was gifted in her drawing, although she preferred to be a novelist. But still, with a single piece of paper and a pencil, she could draw a piece worthy of her own wall in a museum.

This time, when she should have been studying her lessons, she was drawing a detailed sketch of her mother kissing Captain Hook. The drawing did not look as innocent to others as she saw it through her own eyes. Her mother rested on a bed of roses with her eyes closed as if she were sleeping beauty. Captain Hook lay on top of her just about to touch her lips to his. (Wendy drew his shirt open with hairy chest because it always caused Aunt Millicent to fan herself whenever the trashy novels she read mentioned the hero having a hairy chest seen exposed to a damsel's eyes.)

"What is that?" Mrs. Dash demanded, as she glared down at Wendy's drawing. Wendy was speechless as the drawing was snatched from her desk and brought to the front of the class. "We shall speak about THIS," (Mrs. Dash gave a disgusted look, appraising Wendy's art) "after class, Wendy Darling!"

After class, Wendy slowly approached her teacher's aghast frown. "What is this drawing??" Mrs. Dash asked, holding out the sheet. She held her nose up away from it as if it stunk of rotted garbage.

"It's a drawing of a lovely queen who is under the spell of a wicked witch."

Mrs. Dash looked back to the paper and then up to Wendy. "Well, if this is a queen, who is the man lying on top of her, and why, Wendy Darling, is he lying on top of her? Have you seen something like this take place in your home? And if so, who? Have you see your mother and father interact in this manner? And further more young lady, what sort of spell requires a man to lie on top of a woman in such a way as offensive as this?"

"Captain Hook..." Wendy whispered. "And he is about to give the queen a kiss that will break the spell she's trapped under. I've never seen my parents kiss in that way, I just think that is what a pirate captain must do to break the spell. The spell ... the queen is being punished for the letting the king get her in trouble."

"Oh yes, that's correct, you are the child of George Darling and Mary Baker, now I remember ... the scandal," Mrs. Dash sneered. "I see, go back to your desk Wendy. I will be writing to your father this very minute. You ought to be ashamed to draw such foul things."

On her way back to her desk, head lowered, Wendy whispered, "I thought it was quite lovely."

Wendy might be almost a woman, but she still had the mind of a small child, naïve and unseeing as to what the more sophisticated eyes could see. Mrs. Dash penned a letter to George Darling at his place of work, and forwarded the picture that his eldest child and only daughter drew. She grimaced at Wendy when she dismissed her, and sent the messenger on his way with her direction, "You are to give this promptly to Mr. George Darling as his place of business." He took flight into the streets and Wendy followed slowly to the corner, where she was to meet Nana and her brothers.

The messenger had other duties, and instead of going promptly to Mr. Darling, he dropped off his other dispatches first. This was quite a bit of luck for Wendy, for she saw him strolling along on his way to the bank. She called after him and, unfortunately, he did not respond, only continued on to the bank.

Mary told the children all the time (Even now, her mother's words echoed in her ears), "You are never ever to visit father when he is working unless you are escorted my either myself or Grandpa Joe." They always begged to be allowed to peek into the adult world where their father made his living, having had such an interesting time the last time they were there.

Wendy stood before the doors of the bank and watched the messenger speak with the guardsman at the front desk. Had her father been at his desk, maybe she would have faltered and accepted defeat. But, only a few steps away from where the messenger stood, George was standing with and speaking some other businessmen. The guardsman pointed to Mr. George Darling and as the messenger turned towards Mr. Darling, to begin Wendy's death march, sealing her fate. Suddenly she was struck with nerve and the need to survive. She blasted through the bank doors and screamed, "FATHER, PLEASE DON'T BE ANGRY! I CAN EXPLAIN! IT'S A QUEEN AND A VALIANT KNIGHT!"

George whipped about on his heels, eyes wide, as Wendy pushed people out of the way and came running at full speed towards him. She forgot about Nana, and the fact that Mary had instructed the children's trusted nurse with the same order about Mr. Darling and his place of work. Nana, in her attempt to save the day, slid into Wendy, knocking her over on the slippery polished marble floor and on, right into George, Sir Edmund Quiller Couch, the board members from the bank, and a multitude of bank customers.

There are no words to describe what happened next. John and Michael, who had desperately run after their sister, stood in the door of the bank, shocked, frozen in place. Nana began licking Sir Edward and then George, to ease the chaos that blew through the bank like a tornado, leaving destruction in its wake.

People began shouting at one another and demanding some sort of restitution for their ruined clothes and scattered money. There were papers strewn everywhere. With the bank in total disarray, the guardsman had no other choice than to lock the doors. In addition, there was a near riot in the street as crowds gathered in fear to withdraw all their funds. A representative was made to stand out front and tell all those gathered that it was a dog and a small girl that disrupted the normal daily routine of bank business. "Nothing is the matter with the bank, all is fine, just a small mess that needs to be cleaned up before we can reopen. Normal business hours will resume tomorrow if you would like to come in, but you have my sincerest assurances your money is safe inside. Again, just a small child and a family pet that lost their way into the bank, creating a mess on the floor that needs to be cleaned up before we can let anyone back inside, will only be a few more moments..."

George followed behind Sir Edmund Quiller Couch babbling apologies for his daughter's absurd and unacceptable behavior. Only a moment later, without his coat and hat, he returned to where Wendy, John, Michael and Nana were confined by the bank guard's station with a furious expression on his face. The children had never seen their father enraged, and this face surpassed any sternness they thought was possible of the cowardly king. He grabbed both Wendy and Nana by their collars and proceeded to drag them out the bank and all the way home.

As if what had transpired inside was not bad enough, the messenger handed Mr. Darling the letter from Mr. Dash in the street. "I was sent by the a teacher from the school your daughter attends to deliver this to you, Mr. Darling..."

George yanked Wendy and Nana the whole way home without stopping. As Mr. Baker had wished he could do on Mary's wedding day, George imagined throwing Wendy up the stairs into their house. He didn't, of course, but she did miss a step in his haste and scraped her knee, her father not stopping nor allowing Nana to lick it and make it better.

Mary was not home yet, "She's at the market, George. What are you doing home so early and what in blazes is going on?" Grandpa Joe answered his angry query, startled by George's sweaty and disheveled appearance.

"GO TO YOUR ROOM, JOHN AND MICHAEL! WENDY, YOU STAY RIGHT THERE," he shouted, first pointing to the stairs and then to the spot into which Wendy melted. "THE CHILDREN FELT IT NECESSARY TO COME TO MY OFFICE TODAY WITHOUT THEIR MOTHER, AND PAY ME A RATHER HUMILATING AND DEAR VISIT THAT MAY HAVE JUST COST ME MY JOB!" George roared, stalking to his chair at the desk.

Grandpa Joe eased the children with his hand from his seat instructing each of them to stay for a moment, until he could figure out the best course of action to take for the family's sake. George ripped open the letter from Mrs. Dash and read its contents. He gazed at the drawing Wendy had made and removed his spectacles putting his elbow on the desk and resting his head in his hands as he wiped his forehead. "Wendy, come here," he said in his normal calm tone until he caught sight of John and Michael still in the hall, "DID I NOT TELL YOU TO GO TO YOUR ROOM?"

John and Michael began to stutter something about Grandpa Joe which George countered, "I AM YOUR FATHER, NOT HIM," causing them to flee up the stairs and to their room in a heartbeat.

"Wendy, come here," George repeated, pointing the floor next to his chair. She approached him cautiously and only half the way to where he told her to stand he asked, "Is this your mother?" He turned to see her face and she nodded with tears in her eyes. "Where did you see this?" was his next question, which left Wendy, baffled.

She had not seen it, only in her mind. "I dreamed it, Father."

"Who is this then?" he asked, gazing back at the picture.

"It's Captain Hook," she responded, looking to Grandpa Joe for aid.

"From your stories, is that right?" Grandpa Joe remarked, walking up behind George and rereading Mrs. Dash's note. "Seems to me, Son, Wendy is not only an author but she is also an artist, and an inventive one at that." He smiled to George who kept his head bowed.

"Wendy, go to your room," George said, defeated, shaking his head, "and stay there with your brothers until your mother gets home." They did as they were told, and sat on their beds in silence waiting for the sound of the front door to open and the rescue they were to receive from the merciful queen.

Grandpa Joe stared at the picture. "You know George, if you had long curly hair and a very hairy chest with a hook for a right hand, you could be a pirate captain."

Aunt Millicent barged through the door in a frantic dash, without knocking, and headed straight to George, "George, I heard what happened only a second ago, have you been dismissed from your position? How will you afford to live, you will be made to go out on the street? And what of the children? Did you beat them? I hope you did not strike Wendy in her face, of the horror of a bruise on her delicate skin..."

George did not move from the chair and only hung his head with his eyes closed, shutting off the world and its noise. There he sat with Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent in the parlor, they too in silence, after George told them, "Not another word until Mary arrives home."

Nana was hiding in the doghouse up in the nursery, and the children watched as her ears perked up. The front door was unlatched, opened, and in walked Mary, unaware of the disaster of that afternoon. Her arms were full of groceries, and she took no notice of the family waiting for her arrival home. She struggled with the parcels, taking them into the kitchen, oblivious to the unusual lack of sounds in the house. After only a minute she called out, "Father, where are the children?"

That was their cue, and they came down the stairs running into the kitchen, almost knocking her from her feet, with their own story of what occurred at the bank. Aunt Millicent also swept into the kitchen, leaving Grandpa Joe and George sitting in the parlor.

Suddenly Mary screamed out, "WHAT!" and ran to where George sat. George did not look at his wife, only handing her Mrs. Dash's letter.

_Dear Mr. Darling,_

_It has come to my attention that your daughter Wendy has an unusual interest of inappropriate behavior that is unacceptable in this school. I found her this very afternoon scribbling an illustration of a lascivious and salacious nature (please see the enclosed). I can only assume a young girl of that age must have been exposed to this sort of conduct at your home. I will leave her reprimand in your hands at this time, but if she continues with her descent into these sordid and appalling activities, I will be forced to report you to the authorities._

_Your Humble Servant,_

_Mrs. Edwina Dash_

"Good lord George, what was it a doodle of?" Mary asked as her husband handed her Wendy's art.

"She seems very skilled at capturing your likeness," George offered softly as he rose from his desk and walked up the stairs to his room. Mary followed after him and at the bottom of the stairs, still holding the picture of the lovely queen and Captain Hook, she watched him close the door and lock her and the children out.

"Did he lose his job?" Mary asked to anyone who was present.

"He didn't say, my dear, do you want me to go talk to him?" Grandpa Joe suggested holding his daughter's shoulder.

"No, let him be," she responded.

Mary turned to her father and whispered something in his ears, looking at him pointedly. He returned the look, and gazed up the stairs to her bedroom door. The children then got their first taste of what was to come in a few minutes. "I'm afraid that if he takes his hand to the children, he will harm them."

Grandpa Joe nodded his agreement and ascended the stairs to his room without looking to his grandchildren with the kindly eyes they wanted.

"Children, you are to go to the nursery and be punished. You will each be spanked by your grandfather for your horrid behavior this afternoon, and you will receive no supper tonight, and I'd better not hear anything but you doing your lessons and studying before bed," she told them severely, pointing up the stairs, she too without looking at them.

"But Wendy was the one who caused the ruckus!" Michael cast the blame.

"Did you know she was walking to your father's place of employment?" Mary asked Michael and John, who nodded that they knew bank was Wendy's intended destination. "And yet you did nothing to stop her?" They lowered their heads in submission, and started toward the stairs.

Aunt Millicent spoke up for the children, at least for Wendy, "Mary Elizabeth, is a beating for this small infraction really necessary? Think of poor Wendy, has she not suffered enough?"

Mary swung her head around to her aunt and, at the risk of sounding cruel, words were, "How we discipline the children in this house is none of your concern. If my words of warning are not enough, then a swift crack on their bottoms will teach them consequences for their total disregard for the rules of this family."

Grandpa Joe stood in his doorway with belt in hand, and nodded to his daughter he was ready. One by one the children went up the stairs and stood in a line outside. Michael went first, volunteering for the spanking, being the bravest. He walked in and pulled down his pants, leaving his buttocks exposed to Grandpa Joe, who whispered, "No, Michael, I would never take a belt to your bare bottom." Michael fixed his pants and Grandpa Joe bent him over the knee and cracked him one that made his littler grandson cry out. Next came John, who crunched up his face and bit his lip when the belt came down.

Wendy was last, but it was not to be Grandpa Joe who was to spank her, "I'm sorry, Mary Elizabeth, I could never hit you so young, and I can't spank Wendy either." He left it to Mary, who sat on the bed and stared at her eldest for what seemed to Wendy like the "forever" she had heard others speak about. Mary finally stood and discarded the belt and with her open hand smacked Wendy across her bottom as hard as she could manage, falling to her knees and begging God's forgiveness before Wendy even felt it. Wendy cried too, not from pain, but for her mother, who was obviously in agony. "Did you hurt your hand, Mother?" Wendy wept as she stood firmly in front of Mary, still on her knees.

"Go to your room Wendy..."

Mary knew why George had fled to their room: he was crying, heartbroken, when she entered to bring him dinner. He told her through his tears of the failure, humiliation and the shame of what happened at the bank. He hadn't lost his job, but was sure now that the promotion he had waited so long for and worked so hard at slipped through his fingers. As bad as it was, he was not angry with Wendy, only disappointed that he let down his family. He had hopes and aspirations that being manager would give him the financial security he wanted desperately for them all. "Your father would not have to move in with Aunt Millicent. We could sell this house and acquire a larger one with another bedroom. That way Wendy could have her own room, we would have a larger room, the boys would share theirs, and Grandpa Joe could still stay with us. We might even have gotten a home that had a guesthouse -- Grandpa Joe could even have some more privacy and not have to share the lavatory. I was hoping that with the extra money, we might even have enough left over to hire a servant or a cook to give you some rest. You are always so tired at the end of the day. We could have given Wendy a proper coming out party when she is eighteen in the spring, and we could send the boys for riding lessons..." All of George's dreams -- not for himself, but for his family -- ruined.

Mary hugged George and wiped his tears away. "We were invited to Sir Edmund's tomorrow evening for his annual dinner party. We will go and make our apologizes and dazzle them with small talk. We can still have all those things you want, my love, I swear to you. If there is a way, I will make it right." Then, to make sure her husband would have enough strength to show his face at work the next morning, she gave him the special kiss she kept stored for moments like these.

"Where are the children?" George asked finally.

"In their room. Grandpa Joe and I spanked them and sent them to bed with no supper." It was George who now cried out in sympathy, rolling away from his wife on his side, as if the two cracks with the belt and Mary's hand were coming down on his as well. "No Mary, you didn't spank them..." he sighed. "Why would you spank them, they are only children..." He rolled his eyes as he looked to her, his voice giving her hint of his annoyance with her decision.

Mary embraced him once more, at a loss for her actions but still feeling in her heart the reprimand for their deeds were deserving of them. "I'm sorry, George, but something had to be done to teach them once and for all that what they did was wrong and would not be tolerated. I think you need to be stricter with them. We are too permissive in this house, they must learn that they risk more than our invisible trust when they are careless in their games."

"I think you are right, I should be more strict and stern with them. They do not think much of me as a man, I'm sure. But still Mary, you should give the children their supper," he corrected. "Being spanked was punishment enough, its not good for the children to go to bed hungry."

George tapped her arm, "Go Mary, serve the children their supper and then send them to bed. I want to stay here for awhile alone."

"Alone George, why?" Mary asked. "I just need to think some things through Mary. I want to be alone to gather and compose my thoughts, that's all. I have a lot on my mind, and I need to do it alone without interruption. Manly things Mary, you understand."

George understood without question Mary's "womanly things" therefore, Mary rose from the bed and smiled, "Alright George." She left him in their room where he spent the rest of the night. The children ate their supper in silence with no dessert, took their baths and then went to bed. Grandpa Joe made each of them knock at their parent's bedchamber door and wish their father a good night. They did and he reciprocated the sentiment muffled through the door.

"Will father ever come out?" John asked Mary as she tucked him in.

"Yes, John."

"Does he not love us anymore?" Michael asked Mary as she kissed his forehead.

"No, Michael, your father will always love you. He is just disappointed in you and himself."

"And me? He must be very disappointed in me. He will never forgive me will he, Mother?" Wendy asked as Mary blew out the lamp in their room.

"Yes, Wendy, he is disappointed a little in all of us. But he has already forgiven you."

"Do you like me, Mother?" Wendy asked.

"Yes, Wendy, just like your father, I not only like you but will always love you."

Peter tapped at the nursery window that night. Wendy was the only one still awake and she opened it, but would not allow him in. "I've made my father very angry with me. Mother is with him, tonight is no good to escape, tomorrow, my father is going out to a party, my mother will stay with us," she informed him.

"Friday then, be ready at ten..." Peter agreed and took flight into the night sky.


	22. Chapter 22 The Master of the House

My Darling Love

Chapter 22 – The Master of The House

"_A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops."_

_-Henry Brooks Adams_

The next morning, the children crept down the stairs into the kitchen. They peered around the entranceway to see Grandpa Joe sitting at the table chuckling. "The coast is clear," he whispered to them, and they followed in single file.

"Where are father and mother?" John asked softly.

"They are still upstairs, your mother should be down shortly. How about some pancakes?" He made their breakfast and checked over their schoolwork.

"Where is Nana?" Michael asked with his mouth full.

Grandpa Joe looked uneasy; for he had hoped they would forget her absence in their enjoyment of his buttery, syrup-drenched pancakes. Nana could now be heard barking in the backyard, and the children went to the door into the yard and gazed out. There, chained to the clothesline pole, was Nana, the nurse. She was missing her normal nurse's cap, and looked as upset and depressed as a dog of her size could be at her punishment.

"Why is she chained up?" Wendy asked her grandfather.

"Because she is a dog, and not a nurse," George said sternly as he entered the kitchen, fixing his tie. George usually had a strange disposition around the children, rather uncomfortable, with an awkward smile. Never did he show them irritation or annoyance. Even when he disciplined them, it seemed to the children it hurt him more than it hurt them. So his strict tone surprised them.

"But father, you cannot leave her out there," Wendy pleaded to him as he cleaned his spectacles with an odd haughty expression.

"I can and I will, this my house and that dog lives in it only by my good graces, and there she will stay until I say she can come in." His tone was unyielding and brought Wendy to tears. "You will begin your instruction with Aunt Millicent this very afternoon. I will not have you embarrassing this family any more with your silly drawings of. . . of fanciful things like princesses asleep under a witch's curse who are to be rescued by pirate captains. Whoever heard of such a thing? You are to go directly to your aunt's home after school, without your brothers. You will do every single thing she instructs you to do, you will give her your undivided attention, you will not give her the slightest amount of trouble, and when she is finished, you will thank her for sacrificing her time, and for her wisdom and for the important lessons she is teaching you. And that is the way it will be until I say otherwise. It is time for you to GROW UP, WENDY!" he shouted harshly.

Grandpa Joe went to speak in Wendy's defense beginning with, "George that is not necessary-"

But George, the cowardly king, interrupted with, "I am the king of this castle, and from now on my children will fear me and adults living under my roof will respect my decisions without question." With his outlook expressed completely, he turned and went to the front door but not before offering one last parting comment, "Joseph," George dared called Mary's father, his father-in-law by his first name which had the intended result for Grandpa Joe whipped his head to glare at George, "I will be the only man in this house that does the disciplining." He turned his back from the kitchen giving his explanation as he made his way down the hall to the door, "My father always told me if the man doing the spanking feels more guilt for his actions than the person being spanked, it defeats the purpose."

Grandpa Joe said nothing but, "Fine George, if that's what you want," holding his glare to the back of his son-in-law's head.

Mary came down the stairs and met George at the door. She was aware of George's new attitude toward the children and all of the occupants in his house, having discussed it with him the night before after everyone was asleep, and was also aware of his firm intentions. He kissed her cheek and fixed his coat and hat. "See you this evening and I expect you to not be running late when I get home, Mary." He offered and was out the door and down the walk. Mary watched after him with a saddened face, for what she feared for the children had already begun.

"Promise me, George, you will not be a tyrant with your family as your father was, I will not have my children live in a prison," she had pleaded the night before.

"My father was not a tyrant, Mary, he knew how to run his house correctly. I should take a good lesson from his rules and take a page out of his book. There are some things that must change around here. You said it yourself, I should be more strict with the children and I will not have them thinking I am any less of the man my father was."

After George left for the bank, the children wasted no time begging her to bring Nana in, "Father will never know, we can free her and then you can tell him you decided she should be allowed in the house again."

But Mary would not hear of it, "I'm sorry children but your father demanded Nana stay outside. I have to honor his choices and so do you."

Mary took them to school and spoke with Mrs. Dash. "I have no idea where she saw such a thing, I seem to believe it is the way children are educated in this school," she told her, turning the tables on the embarrassed educator. "There is no such foul behavior accepted in my husband's and my house. The content of this letter was inappropriate and very upsetting for my husband to be charged with it at his office. You should address any further rude correspondences you have pertaining to my daughter to our home, or I will speak to the Headmaster myself. How dare you accuse my family of allowing such things! I was just as appalled as you were if not more that Wendy found the time to doodle during your class. It seems obvious that your lack of supervision, Mrs. Dash, has caused Wendy's lapse into this disturbing conduct."

Mrs. Dash finally conceded responsibility in Wendy's artwork but had to comment, "Well, Mrs. Darling, I only suspected from your own missteps--"

Mary slammed her hand down on Mrs. Dash's desk so swiftly and with such great force it knocked over her pencil holder, "How dare you speak about my private matters? If my children hear even one ill word against myself or their father I will speak to the headmaster and have you dismissed from your position!"

Mary huffed from the classroom and all the way home. It had not been an easy night for her and it was an even more difficult morning. Last night, after the children had been put to bed, after George and Mary talked for hours about all the changes George insisted upon, Mary was told by her husband to fetch Nana from the nursery. Just like the children, she did as she was told, and brought him the family pet. He ripped the nurse's cap from her head and ordered Nana to "Stay outside where you belong!"

Mary begged for leniency, just like the children, to no avail. "Absolutely not, Mary. You have been very lax in disciplining the children. You let them run about like wild animals and I simply will not have it any longer. You are my wife and it is my right as your husband and provider. From now on, you will obey me without question or insolence."

George continued lecturing Mary as to what he would and would not expect from the children, from her and even from her father, into the early hours. He finished with a rather abrupt, "Good night, Mary," turning on his side away from her and falling asleep.

Mary was up most of the night listening not only to her husband snoring but also to Nana barking, devastated to be locked out of the house and away from her charges.

In the morning George's expectations continued. He expected Mary to lift her nightgown enough that he could enter her from behind as she stood by her vanity. He bent her over and pleasured himself rapidly, leaving her with, "I think my father was right, quicker is better. This is what you can expect from me in this matter from now on." Not only was it unfulfilling and completely degrading to Mary, he made her late for her morning duty of making the children breakfast and sending them off to school, with George criticizing her tardiness, "You should be up early in the morning Mary to assure you can complete your duties to me and this house."

George left a note with his wife addressed to Aunt Millicent, informing her she would begin educating Wendy in how to be the proper lady he expected, writing, "I fully anticipate that my only daughter will carry nothing with her except a bouquet when she marries a proper gentleman of good breeding from a wealthy family." And although she gave a sympathetic face to Mary when she read George's letter later that next day, she was gloating on the inside. Aunt Millicent was astounded and overjoyed to have won Wendy, so she raced from the house to return to her own and prepare for the "School Of Etiquette And Good Manners" she was once again to be headmistress of.

Grandpa Joe left right after George did, in need of a walk to calm his fueled temper. Now Mary was home alone. She went to her room and looked through her dresses for the one she would wear that evening. Finding none that would do, she went to the bank and asked George for a portion of her allowance.

"Absolutely not," he replied. "I had to make good on several customer's accounts because of Wendy's escapade yesterday, and I will not expend another cent." When she suggested he take the money from their "petty cash fund" he retorted, "Where do you think I got the money from in first place to pay back the bank." And when she proposed he remove the funds from their traditional savings, he became even more hostile. "Are you deaf, Mary? I said no, and I expect that I should only have to tell you 'no' once. Borrow something from your Aunt Millicent. She has loads of fancy things. Do not disturb me again at the bank with such silly things." He headed back to his desk, without an embrace or kiss.

Poor Mary went to her Aunt Millicent, but found no sympathy there. "Mary Elizabeth, you are a grown woman with three children, there is nothing in that closet that would be proper for a woman of your station in life. As it was, the dress you borrowed for Christmas made you look out of place with others your own age. Those are dresses suitable for a young girl that will be attending a cotillion or a formal, not a dinner party hosted by a Bank president. Wear something George purchased for you in Paris."

George had not bought her any dresses in Paris. She borrowed her sister-in-law Eve's gowns when her attire was inappropriate. Home once again, she chose an emerald green dress hidden in the hall closet downstairs that cut low on her cleavage and tight to her waist and hips. Peter had given it to her while on their holiday. "My wife tells me you have no ball gowns. Here, dearest Mary, I think this one will fit your alluring figure just fine. As repayment for my generosity, I think you should try it on, just for me..."

She didn't try it on while in Paris, but was forced to us it now, having no other options. A little more formal than required, and more revealing in the neckline than she felt comfortable wearing for a dinner party, it was still a perfect fit. So -- there she was, in the middle of the afternoon, stuck, attired in Peter's unwelcome endowment.

Mary left the house and met the children after school, on the street corner, wearing her normal clothing. She served them an early dinner, and had them dressed and ready for bed before George arrived home. He walked in the door on time with Aunt Millicent by his side. "You forgot to take Wendy to her lesson today, Mary. Your Aunt waited almost the entire afternoon. I simply cannot understand, with nothing to do all day, how you always seem to be so absent-minded. You'd better have remembered to press my suit, and it had better be laid out on my bed waiting for me. Mary Elizabeth, you are not even dressed! Did I not tell you only this morning you were not to make us late! Put the children to bed!" George scolded Mary as he went up the stairs to bathe and change into his tuxedo for the night's affair.

Mary was dazed and confused with all that was happening around her. She was trying to control the children who were jumping about at her feet wanting attention and comfort, she was listening to Aunt Millicent chatter on about her wasted day and the time wasted for poor Wendy, and in the backyard, she could hear Nana barking. Her father was not helping by muttering under his breath harsh words about George's vulgar attitude that made him want to, "move out of this house and into the mission this very night."

Finally overcome by her surroundings, Mary fainted.

". . .You are just fortunate she was not dressed to go out yet. What a disaster that would have been." Aunt Millicent's was the first voice she heard before opening her eyes.

"Perhaps we should stay home tonight," George began.

"No, you must go to that party and hold your head high. If you want that promotion George, you must take action."

Mary was awake but did not stir. She waited until George lifted her from the sofa and carried up to their bed before she opened her eyes. "Where are the children?" she asked when he noticed her watching him.

"I sent them to their room. They are to work on their studies until you put them to bed. They were home all afternoon, Mary, and they did not complete their homework. Apparently you just let them play their days away. Now Mary, I want that schoolwork done and checked for errors before you allow them to even leave the kitchen table after school from now on. Straight inside to the kitchen table, I want their books out and pencils down. Then you will check their work, and they will wait until the others are finished, and then and only then can they play. And they are only allowed to play in the nursery, not anywhere else in the house. Do you understand, Mary? Now, I want them in bed asleep before we leave, with their school studies done and checked."

Mary rolled on her side and watched the night sky. It was beginning to snow and she lay there only a minute before George nudged her, "Mary, I want their work done, I want you to check it, I want you to put them in bed, I want you to get dressed and I want you to do all of this right now or you will make us late."

Mary turned her head to see him tying his bowtie and checking his reflection in the mirror. "And what will you do George?"

George did not even look at her, only continued to tie and retie his bowtie, "I am going to go downstairs to the parlor and have a fine liqueur and read the paper and you are going to do as I said without question now."

Mary hated his tone of voice. She never appreciated being talked at as opposed to being spoken to. "He actually expects me to do everything while he sits back and drinks his liqueur and reads the paper? I think not," Mary said to herself as she rose from the bed. She absolutely would not live in the house Mr. Frederick Darling the fourth built, nor would she allow her children to. George Darling needed to be taught a lesson, and Mary deemed herself fit to be teacher as well as judge and jury on this night. If George wanted his head on the chopping block, so be it.

George was fixing his bow tie for the hundredth time as Mary pushed past him out of the room. She went down the stairs and into the kitchen where she began doing the dishes. George followed after her and with his arms raised and his eyes rolling, he asked, "What are you doing, the dishes? You did not wash the dishes? What did you do all day while I was at work, sit around and stare out the window? It is no wonder Wendy is so flighty in her young maturity, with you as an example. If my mother was here, these dishes would be done, the children's schoolwork would be completed and checked, and they would be in bed asleep already. Not to mention, she would have been dressed and waiting by the door for my arrival."

Mary did what she always did when she felt George was not treating her correctly, she gave him the silent treatment. She acted as if he was not standing in the kitchen trailing on her apron strings.

George blocked her in the pantry and after he demanded she go upstairs and do as she was told at once she responded, "Fine George, I will see that the children do their studies, and I will correct it when they are finished, then I will put them to bed and stay with them until they are asleep. I will come down to the kitchen and do the dishes and tidy the house to your mother's liking, and after that I will punish myself by going to my room and staying there all night, missing your dinner party."

George was in agreement nodding his head with pride, until she spoke of her punishment, "No, you will dress and come with me to the dinner party as we were both given the invitation."

Mary put out her lower lip shaking her head, acting terribly letdown to miss the fun of a night out on his arm. "No, George, you know if your mother was such a bad wife, your father would never reward her with a dinner party and dancing. No, your father would send her to her room without supper." She was correct on that regard. But not on another, for Mr. Frederick Darling the Fourth would have also beaten his wife cruelly.

With that revelation, George swallowed hard on the knot that rose in his throat. He stuttered and stammered trying to convince her she must go or he would not have enough nerve to face his colleagues giving his best apologies for being so thoughtless to her feelings to no avail. Mary stamped up the stairs and yelled down, "NO! I MUST BE PUNISHED!"

George sat on the sofa with his hands in his lap and waited three hours for her. He went to their room and tapped lightly on the door, politely asking his wife if she was ready. She peeked out in her bathrobe and informed him if he didn't leave now he would be late. "The invitation said nine George, it is half past. The children finished their studies, I checked their work, and they are in bed asleep. I will do the dishes after you leave, I didn't want the noise of me cleaning and tidying to disrupt you while you had your drink and read the paper."

Aunt Millicent had to forcefully remove George from the house or he would have stayed home. She did and so he went off to face the bank president without the support of his wife, or her special kiss to make him valiant.

The children watched their father leave alone, and laughed at him as he clumsily tripped on the curb, already unsure in his steps. Mary watched him leave to from the front window, dressed in her bathrobe with her hair in a towel.

"You know, Mary Elizabeth," Grandpa Joe said, as he puffed on his pipe, "sometimes when we are angry, we need to overlook what wrongs we feel were committed against us and gaze upon the bigger picture. George suffered a major humiliation at work only yesterday. His words and actions today were only the result of that. If you punish him for every wrong he's committed, then you miss out on the joys forgiving the person you love will provide. Trust me, I know. You are sending him alone to the lions, Mary Elizabeth, they will eat him alive." By this time, Grandpa Joe had forgiven his son-in-law's wrongs, seeing his remorseful expression as he sat and waited for his Queen to make her entrance - an entrance that never came.

Mary's bathrobe was tied up tight to her neck. Grandpa Joe noticed something in his daughter's appearance that made him giggle. "Pretty fancy shoes to be wearing in your bathrobe, Mary Elizabeth, is it a new style?"

Mary turned to face him, and undid the ties of her robe and removed it. She was dressed to the nines in her emerald green gown. She took off the towel from her head and her hair was curled up in a perfect twist. The only thing missing were George's necklace, which he took to the jeweler only that morning to have the clasp repaired. "How did it get damaged, Mary Elizabeth?" her father asked when she explained its absence from around her neck, "you only got it no more than a week ago."

Mary shrugged her shoulders; "George said he noticed it as he removed it from me that night. I have to say good night to the children before I leave."

Aunt Millicent had put them to bed and was coming down the stairs as Mary was heading up. "Thank God you came to your senses. We would never be able to show our faces around the neighbors nor anywhere in all of London if you let George try to make small talk with his colleagues from the bank."

Mary went into the nursery, the children now pretending to be asleep. She closed and locked their window. "Mother, you are not leaving, are you?" Wendy sat up in bed.

John followed suit with, "Father already left without you -- let him go alone."

Michael also got up and ran to her, "Yes, Mother, please stay with us."

Mary hugged Michael, sitting him on her lap on Wendy's bed shaking her head, "My precious babies, you know I can't let your father go to this dinner party alone. He needs me."

In unison the children replied, "We need you, too."

She smiled to them and touched their faces, "Yes I know you need me when you are awake, but when you sleep you will not even know I am gone."

Michael chirped up, "But what happens if we awaken?"

"Then you should call for Aunt Millicent or Grandpa Joe, they are my eyes when I am not here." She kissed them each on the forehead, but Wendy, as stubborn as her mother would not concede, "If father wants everyone to fear and respect him, why does he need you? To hide behind?"

Mary was taken aback by Wendy's bold comment. It never occurred to her how little the children knew about their father. They did think of him as the cowardly king. She saw it their faces as they rolled their eyes and annoyingly sighed at the simple mention of his name. The children never openly talked with their father, seems the older they got the more they ignored him. On this very important night, not just for him, but for their futures and well being, as well, they could care less of him and his own plights. Small battles he fought alone, just for them, each and every day. So she decided it was time to enlighten them. "Your father is a very strong man children. He is brave and valiant."

The children looked at their mother with disbelief. "Father, brave?" Wendy questioned, her tone was exasperated, the beautiful queen again running to defend her weak king.

"Oh yes, your father is very brave. You know, children, men who engage and sword fights and fierce battles are not the only ones deserving of honor and respect. A man who does the best for his family and sacrifices everything in his life he wants for himself for the betterment of those he loves is far more courageous. To put the wants and needs of others you care about before your own is a very noble selfless act of kindness and love. Your father does that every day of his life. He goes to work and makes a living for this family, so that we have a home to live in, so there is always food on the table, and we all have clothes to wear and toys for you to play with. He works so that we can be warm in the winter and cool in the summer. He saves money for all your futures, so when you get older there is not one dream that you won't be able to achieve. Believe me, there were times when he went hungry so there would be enough food for all us to eat. There were times when he didn't sleep because there were not enough hours in the day to take care of all his responsibilities. He has taken care of each of us when we were sick. When your father and I were first married, he worked three jobs just so he could keep me in the lifestyle he felt I deserved, and when he felt short, he apologized for disappointing me." Mary had tears in her eyes as she spoke; the children gazed on her unblinking. "And he has done all of this without ever thinking of himself first. You father has dreams, too."

Michael tugged on his mother's dress. "Father has dreams?"

"Oh yes, many dreams, we all have dreams and desires. But your father put all of his away in a drawer in his desk. I have a similar drawer I keep my dreams in."

Wendy went wide-eyed, "In your vanity."

"Yes, Wendy, in my vanity. Now I take my dreams out all the time and look at them and wonder after them. When I'm done, I have to shut that drawer and leave them there hidden away, and I always have such a difficult time. Almost like I'm scared the next time I open that drawer, they won't be there. Your father always has to give me the courage to close that drawer. Your father never, ever looks in his drawer. He's not afraid that when he finally does open it, he will find them gone, he doesn't care. Not that he doesn't want to see his dreams and marvel at them, he just feels that your dreams are far more important than his own. That makes him brave, that makes him strong, that makes him worthy of our respect and admiration."

"But he was so mean, yelling at Wendy, and at you, Mother..." John began with his head lowered.

"He was only cruel today because he thought that is what had to be done to assure his family's safety. He wants you children to grow up and have the lives you deserve and above all else to be happy. He never wants you to be able to blame him for not being strict enough with rules. He knows he was wrong, and feels very sorry, and you all should forgive him. I did."

"He may do all those things mother, but he could never defeat a pirate captain!" Michael exclaimed. Mary gazed down to her baby boy resting on her lap and then to Wendy and John. In her sincerest voice she corrected, "Your father would die for you children. Whether he had to work himself to death as a bank clerk or in a sword fight with a pirate captain. He would never allow another soul on earth or in hell to harm his children."

Mary rose from the bed and tucked the children back in. "Good night, my precious darlings, I love you all so very much. I will check in on you the moment I return, you will be sleeping, but I will be there to see that you rest soundly. I will see in the morning."

Mary departed, alone in the snow, and walked quickly to catch up to George. He arrived at the party first and became the handsome wallflower among all the guests, too shy to make small talk; too afraid his lack of wit would embarrass himself further. Without Mary, George could not be brave.

The bank president was surrounded by several gentlemen, all candidates for the promotion of bank manager, engaging him in lively conversations. Feeling he should at least try to impress the host he approached the group and did his best to mingle in. He arrived too late and missed the punch line of the joke delivered but chuckled uncomfortably anyway causing all eyes to turn on him. If ever he wished he could invisible, this was that moment. He began to nod and step back to excuse himself and run from the room when he met a hand on his back. "Good evening, Sir Edward, how lovely it is to see you again." Mary moved alongside her husband and took his arm. She looked at George and smiled.

"Yes, I believe you've met my wife, M-Mary."

Sir Edward blushed when Mary turned the full radiance of her smile on him and he nodded bashfully to her. "Yes, Mary, we have met. How have you been?" She told him she was very well, and thanked him for the invitation.

The chamber group began to play, and Sir Edward, overcome by Mary's beauty and charm, asked for the honor. George insisted and she stepped on the floor with grace and ease. "I am so very unhappy about the trouble my daughter caused in your bank, Sir Edward, George and I were very angry with her. Children are so foolish sometimes in their thinking. You would not believe this, but her teacher wrote George a letter about how Wendy was not paying attention in class and sent it to him at his place of business. I thought her very rude, and told her myself that Wendy was not paying attention because she had already been given the same arithmetic lesson several times already. I recommended she retire from her position if she was unable to control the students and give them a proper education."

Her invented story told to George's boss had him nodding his head in agreement, adding his own two pence in her husband's favor, "Well, if your daughter is as talented in math as George is, I can see where repetitive teaching would not be challenging enough to hold her attention." He said nothing else of the chaos that almost cost him the Queen's account and abruptly, changed the subject of their small talk. "How long have you and George been married?" Sir Edward inquired.

"Fourteen very joyous years." Mary was an experienced dancer, one of the few lessons she truly enjoyed receiving as a child. It made her wish she had enrolled Wendy in classes already.

"I hope you do not consider this rude, but I must ask. How ever did George Darling capture your heart? I'd heard a story that I could not possibly believe. How could it have ended in an engagement, let alone a marriage of fourteen years?"

They both looked toward George as his name was brought up, Sir Edward gave a stern nod and Mary winked. "Something about him spilling punch on you and you, my lady," he whirled Mary around away from her husband, "and you slapping his cheek."

Mary laughed louder than she wanted to, causing Sir Edward to giggle himself. "Can you keep a secret?" Mary asked. Seems that was the way this particular story was always told by those involved.

Sir Edward nodded and walked with Mary off to the other side of the room, away from those gathered, for a moment alone. He sat her down on a chair and took the seat next to her, carefully handing her a glass of punch.

"His parents hosted a party when I was only sixteen, my first cotillion. His eldest brother, Peter -- do know him?" Mary began and queried to Sir Edward who scowled and shook his head, revolted at the mention of Peter Darling's name. "Well, he is quite older than George, by fifteen years, which makes him all the more older than I, for George himself is seven years my senior. Peter was quite fond of me, and would not grant me a moment's peace at the party. George offered to get me punch as I had been dancing all night. I remember his being eager, and as he approached me, he tripped and spilled the glass all over my dress. I slapped his face in my anger for being so clumsy and called him a few choice names, for he accidentally brushed over my bosom when he fell." Both blushed at the mention of her personals, and Mary continued.

"Now my mother was watching, and she told me later that Peter had purposely tripped George, as he was jealous of my attentions to him. For my part, I was not giving George any attention, I was simply thirsty, but still I felt quite troubled regarding my actions. Some time later, my father reintroduced us at my parents' home at tea, and I meant at that very moment to apologize to George for being so rude and discourteous, but I swear when I saw him, he was not the same man. Something about him was different, I don't know, it's so silly to tell the story. I deny to George and most others that ask that it ever happened, simply out of sheer embarrassment."

Mrs. Darling and Sir Edward stood and mingled back in dancing the waltz, "I know of his brother, Peter," Sir Edward remarked distastefully. "I hope you do not have that much contact with him."

Mary shook her head, "No, he is in Paris and he can rot there as far as George and I are concerned."

"So, George won your heart by default then, for you felt sorry for him."

Mary gazed across the room to George, back to being the wallflower, staring at his shoes. "No, quite the contrary. I fell in love with him for being so brave. There are few men who would dare show their face -- let alone their cheek -- to a woman who had previously slapped it for improper behavior. I know that not many people believe in love at first sight, but when I saw George in my parents' parlor that afternoon, without saying a word, he won my heart forever. And he is my perfect match, as if God himself assigned us to be husband and wife. I do love him so, and he is a good man and better husband and the best father. That is why Wendy was so worried and raced to see him yesterday. Children try desperately to please their parents, she was afraid George was to be angry with her over a silly doodle that went with one of her stories. All very innocent, but her teacher told her little girls should not worry after things like art. I went to school myself and reprimanded the teacher for telling Wendy such things and also for sending a letter of the same to my husband at his office. I think children should be encouraged in their endowments. God gives us the gifts, it is up to us to develop them."

Now it is a wise employer who interviews the wives of gentleman competing for a promotion. Sir Edward was not only wise but also very interested in his conversation with Mrs. George Darling. He nodded and agreed, watching Mary as she spoke. He was impressed that she could speak her mind without reserve. He saw that gossip was of no interest to her and that impressed him all the more. Not to mention, when she spoke highly of her George, there was not the least bit of untruth in her feelings or over exaggeration in his skills as husband and father hidden in her persuasive smile. His final question in their discussion, "What does George think about your opinions?"

The number had ended, and he escorted Mary back to her husband on his arm as she answered. "We have the same mind of many things. Even when we disagree, we agree to respect the other's view."

Sir Edward bowed to Mary, and for the first time smiled at George. "Your wife is very lovely, George, and you are very lucky to have her. In fact, George, I think you are the luckiest man in this room. Enjoy your evening."

As he walked away, Mary leaned her head into George and kissed his cheek. "I love you, George," she whispered. He held onto her hand tightly as Sir Edward returned with the Bank's Board Members and began a discussion about George's new position in the bank. "We shall make the announcement at dinner tonight."

Back at the nursery, Wendy, John and Michael sat on their beds and waited for Peter Pan. He arrived on time and inquired after their mother. "She's not coming, she wants to stay behind and guard the king," Michael answered.

"No bother let's go. After thinking on it, I think it's best she stays behind! On to Neverland!" Peter shouted.

John and Michael flew out the window and into the night, Wendy held her footing on the ledge. "Come on, Wendy, let's go!" Peter directed, waiting in the air in front of her.

"If I go, I will never grow up?" Wendy asked, and Peter nodded.

"You will never have to be a grownup and worry about grownup things. No lessons with Aunt Millicent, no school, no parents. Leave this lost kingdom for another, another kingdom where there are adventures with pirates, Indians and mermaids. There are fairies, too! You can live your stories! Come to Neverland!" he cried, as he took her hand and brought her away from the nursery.

"You will never have to grow up. You will never grow to be a woman with duties to her husband. You will never have to have children and cook or clean. We shall engage in sword fights and do battles with evil pirates!" Peter shouted as he guided them through the sky towards Neverland.

Wendy, John and Michael were so excited. To never have to be burdened with whatever it was their parents seemed bothered with every day was simply marvelous. They were sad that their mother could not be saved; after all, it was she that they wished to rescue. But her betrayal to them -- defending the king -- was more than they could bear.

"Mother just says those things about father so we won't hate him more. He's never gone hungry for us. Mother serves his supper first," Michael was the first to speak up after Mary left.

"He will make you grow up, Wendy, I know he will. As it is, you have to move into another room and not play with us anymore. It isn't fair!" John bellowed under his blankets.

"I don't think mother even likes him. She's just being punished for something bad she did, and that's why she's stuck with him, and it was his entire fault anyway. I bet she didn't want to grow up either, and that's why she ran away. But she got caught, we won't," Wendy affirmed while standing by the nursery window. "When Peter arrives, we will run away with him to Neverland and never come back." She unlatched the lock, raised the window and waited.

"Our father wouldn't die for us...He won't even miss us...."


	23. Chapter 23 The Lost Children

My Darling Love

Chapter 23 – The Lost Children

"_All wrongdoing is done in the sincere belief that it is the best thing to do."_

_-Arnold Bennett_

George wasn't made the bank manager, but his assistant. He did not receive the great increase of salary for which he'd hoped, but the extra stipend the title "assistant" would provide would still ease the Darling financial woes.

Mr. and Mrs. Darling traveled home and into their unusually quiet home after staying late at the party. They walked together arm and arm, and Mary quietly told him what she herself expected. "I do not want to live in the kind of home your father made for his family. If you remember, George, living with your mother almost drove me insane. If you want to send me to an early grave, then by all means, become your father. But otherwise, I expect you to be my George, the George I fell in love with, the father of my children and my partner. Please..."

George conceded he had been upset with Wendy, and that he'd taken it out on the whole family. "I will apologize to the children in the morning at breakfast. But I do think we should be a little stricter with our rules. And Mary, I don't ever want to be my father, I hated that man. I'll be the one in the early grave if you became my mother so, I agree completely, let's not do that either."

They both chuckled and strolled casually, stopping at the park for one last kiss before proceeding to the front door of their home. As they walked up the steps, George added, "As I recall, I owe you something special from this morning Mary."

Mary turned to see his face; curious of the debt he spoke of. His eyes said everything and Mary smiled pulling him quickly inside by his arm.

Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent had fallen asleep reading, and their snoring was the only sound that resonated throughout the house. Nana was fiercely barking in the backyard as if protecting her family from an attack. "Why don't you bring Nana inside, Mary?" George responded to his wife's melancholy expression as she gazed out the back window. "It's cold tonight, and I'm sure she misses the children. Best to keep her inside I think."

"Really, George?" He nodded, and Mary was in the backyard in an instant. Nana could not contain the message she needed to dispatch to George and Mary, and knocked them both over dashing into the house and up the stairs.

"The children will be so pleased," Mary said, as she took off her earrings, peeking into the parlor, wondering whether or not she should disturb the sleeping guards, resting on the sofa and loveseat.

Ignoring the others, Nana raced into the nursery and waited by the door for her masters. When no one followed after her she blasted back down the stairs and bit George on his arse, then latched onto Mary's dress and dragged her up to the children's room. George still shocked by Nana's actions, paused downstairs until he heard Mary scream, "OH GOD, NO! GEORGE, COME QUICKLY. THE CHILDREN!"

Her cry woke Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent, who followed behind George's frantic dash into the nursery. There they found Mary hanging out the wide-open window holding on with only one hand. George clutched her around the waist and pulled her into his arms and back into the nursery. "They're gone, they ran away!" Mary managed through her tears as she fell to the floor still in George's embrace.

George looked about, holding her with a panicked face. "No, Mary, they are probably just hiding. They are just playing a game with us. That's all. Check under the beds and in the wardrobe."

Aunt Millicent searched the nursery with Grandpa Joe searching his room and every other room in the house. For a while, the children's names were shouted into every nook and cranny within the Darling Residence.

"I told you to watch them! Why didn't you watch after them? They are only children!" Mary wailed inconsolably in her husband's arms.

"It's alright, Mary, they are just playing a game with us, they are only hiding. They will come out and we will all have a jolly good giggle at them for being so silly," George insisted, holding her tightly while kissing his wife's forehead as Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent, dumbfounded by the children's disappearance looked on. George began to weep as well, as he continued on with, "Oh yes, we will laugh at their silliness my love. And then we will hug them and kiss them and ask them politely never to play this game with us again..."

"They couldn't have gotten far, Mary, not in their nightclothes," offered Grandpa Joe as he rested, out of breath, on Wendy's bed.

Mary stood and stared at her father, "I escaped out of my window in only my slip and stockings, find them...."

By dawn, George and Grandpa Joe took to the streets. They checked hospitals and orphanages. George went to the school, and requested the name and address of every student, and, one by one, he went to each home and inquired after his missing daughter and sons. Grandpa Joe went to the church and had the priest make an announcement at morning mass requesting any information about Wendy, John and Michael be brought to the attention of the authorities.

Aunt Millicent called the constables, and they re-inspected the Darling home. "Lost children are a rarity, Mrs. Darling, but it does happen from time to time. We have similar cases we are investigating as well. Now, you said they ran away. Is it possible they could have been kidnapped? Do you and your husband have any enemies?" As Mary tried to make a list anyone who might have ought against them, "Who would steal your children away, Mary Elizabeth?" Aunt Millicent scoffed at such an idea.

"You said you found their nursery window open. Are you sure you closed and locked it?" the policeman inquired.

Aunt Millicent assured them that after George and Mary left, she checked in on the children herself and the window was in fact shut and locked. "No one would be able to climb up and snatch them with it locked," was her expert opinion. "If the children unlocked it and climbed down, well that's just the better theory."

Mary sat on the sofa as Millicent and constable talked back and forth about all the other children in London who had gone astray in the middle of the night, searching for some similarity that would link them to the Darling children.

"There were no footprints in the snow..." Mary mumbled, but no one heard.

"There were no footprints in the snow," which got everyone's attention when she increased her volume. "There were no footprints, and if they left on foot there would be footprints."

Aunt Millicent turned up her nose to her niece, who had apparently lost her mind, and replied, "They did not leave through the front door, Mary. So unless you are suggesting they flew out the window into the night sky -- well, that is just absurd!"

The constable agreed, but still wanted a list of anyone Mary and George would consider a foe. Mary thought long and hard and attempted a list. Her father and mother might have been first. But she had reconciled with Grandpa Joe long ago, and her mother was in the ground a decade, if not more, and she was never really an enemy to being with. Frederick Darling the Fourth and his wife Grandma Josephine were both dead and buried. George's three brothers all lived in other countries, and had no interests in them. Aunt Millicent was there, so she was not suspect. Bank customers who lost money or had their clothes ruined because of Wendy's fiasco had no idea where the Darlings lived. "Mrs. Dash, Wendy's teacher. I gave her a piece of my mind about an offensive letter she sent to my husband."

That was the only person Mary could remember, doubtful at best, and swiftly handled, "It's Miss Dash, Mrs. Darling and she lives with her mother in a tiny basement flat next to the church. There were no signs of your children anywhere."

The neighbors adored the children, and as the morning lingered on, they came by and dropped off their sympathies and covered dishes. "At least you won't have to worry about food," they would say as they left.

By nightfall on the first night, the constables returned with grim news. "No leads or clues have been found to your children's whereabouts, Mr. and Mrs. Darling. I'm very sorry. The only thing to do is wait. We will check in with you everyday and let you know if anything turns up."

Mary began crying, and this time it was her father's arms she fell into. George led the officers from the house. "Mr. Darling, this is not the first unexplained case of missing children we've seen. It seems every so often a number of children go missing. Some return on their own regards, some do not. The ones that don't are never found. Best start praying to God that wherever they are, they realize they want to come home." They tipped their hats and went on their ways with glum faces.

"It's all my fault. It's all my fault," George repeated over and over again. Mary was silent.

Grandpa Joe brought her armchair up the nursery and set it by the window. "That's what your mother did when you ran away," he told her as she eased into it and rested her head back. She had cried all the tears her body could produce in one day, and now she had nothing left to show for all her misery and sorrow. The only sound she heard that first night without the children in the Darling Residence was George writing over and over again, "My children must not fear me," and agony of her own heart breaking.

The second and third day after the children had gone was the same. Mary sat in her chair and waited by the open window. It was cold outside and her breath could be seen. She was still attired in her emerald green party dress, refusing to change out it. "This is the last thing the children saw me in," she explained. George made her cover up in a blanket and attempted the close the window. Snow was swirling in, and was beginning to ice the rug below. "NO! This window must always remain open. All the windows in this house must never be locked, as well as the front door. When they come home, I never want them to think for even a moment that they are no longer welcome here."

Mary insisted Grandpa Joe sit in the foyer with a smile on his face, with entranceway to the house open. "George will need to take a loan out to pay the heating bill!" he told his daughter, alarmed. A compromise was made: Grandpa Joe bundled up from head to toe in the morning and put his favorite chair out on the front porch. There he sat with a smile on his face and waited with the front door closed, but not locked. At night, he moved the chair back inside and slept on the floor in the foyer, still wearing a smile.

Aunt Millicent did what she did best, and spread stories. But not juicy gossip about how Mary and her incompetent husband lost their children. More so, "If you see the children on the streets or anywhere else for that matter, ask them to go home at once. Their parents love them and miss them desperately. Better yet, tempt them home with candy, all children love candy. I will personally reimburse your expense."

George went to the bank. "If the children should need your assistance, they will seek you out there," Mary reasoned, even though George countered that his reaction to them the last time they went to the bank was (he thought) why they ran away in the first place.

She would not hear of him staying home, and Grandpa Joe concurred. "Best to have some normalcy for Mary." So George went to the bank, and when he came home, he sat at his desk and continued writing, changing the sentence everyday. "Nana is the children's nurse, not a dog." And "It is more important that my children love me than respect me." He refused to eat any meals, for he was sure the children were hungry out on the streets. Both Mary and Grandpa Joe felt the same, and fasted as well.

George slept in the nursery each night cuddled up by Mary's feet. He refused to be covered with a blanket, "I want to suffer the chill. If our children are out there tonight, they will be cold with only their nightclothes. I don't deserve a warm blanket or bed." Mary waited until he fell asleep and then wrapped him up with a warm comforter. On the third night, when the bitter wind blew in the snow, she put a woolen hat on his head.

Late at night, with the house sleeping, Mary rose from her chair and entered the washroom and took a long hot bath. She changed into a simple crimson nightgown, robe and slippers. She brushed out her long hair while sitting at her vanity and gazed at her reflection. Her precious babies were lost, and so was her heart. She opened her drawer full of dreams and removed the picture Wendy had made of the lovely queen and the pirate captain. She folded it neatly and put in her pocket, returning to the nursery.

Mary looked down at George asleep on the floor. No matter what travesties went on around him, he always dreamt of numbers and finances. He mumbled incoherently how much the children should have taken out of their piggy banks before embarking on their adventure. Mary wanted to sleep and she prayed to God for it, "Please give me rest, dearest God, just for tonight, that in my sleep I should see my children and guide them home safely...I ask that you help me, send me an angel, give me aid, give me guidance...." Mary closed her eyes...

Captain Hook was a hard man, strong and wicked. Mary lay underneath him as he rutted with such force she bled. Something strange brewed inside of her, for the first time she realized this was not a nightmare. She endured willingly every second that he took from her what he wanted, as that was her just punishment for being a horrible mother, and as his climax neared, she spoke. "Tell me you still love me."

"No," he responded thrusting into her a final time, releasing his seed. "I hate your children, Madam, and I hate even more the fact that they belong to your husband."

Captain Hook hated children, all children, even those that were hers. "You are going to do marvelously on this ship, Madam," he whispered in her ear when he was finished.

"I though my name was Beauty and you were the beast?" she said from underneath him, turning her head from him in disgust as he speared his hook in the wooden planks for leverage as he rose from her. "I think I prefer, Madam, a more formal relationship, now that you are married." Mary felt as if she would be sick, seeing his naked form standing above her. He offered his hook to help her stand as well and she shook her head, preferring to get up without his help.

"Oh, but Madam, do not dress, for we are not yet finished," the pirate captain told her, spinning her about to face him as she gathered her nightgown from the floor.

"Do you really think I will be eager for you, Captain Hook, when you only had a go at me a moment ago?" Mary asked, with an expression that was just as lost as her children.

"I can do whatever I like to you, Madam, for you are in my world now. And I must say, Peter did not lie, you are just as lovely as he claimed, and there is so much more that you deserve from a man. Now bend over..."

"Pan..." Mary muttered as she slept on the armchair. But it was not the magical character Wendy described in her stories. To Mary, Pan was her brother-in-law, the Peter of the Past. "Paris..." again she groaned in her sleep. George had not told her what his brother suggested, but she knew, for Peter's wife had proposed the same scenario.

"Your husband is so handsome. I have no idea where my friend would have ever gotten the idea that he could be fond of men. Mary, is it true that George has had no other women but you?" Mary nodded, curiously watching her sister-in-law's odd expression. She looked as if someone had tempted her with an exquisite piece of chocolate.

"What a shame for George, all these years to be trapped with the same woman."

Mary never thought of her husband as trapped in their marriage. Mrs. Peter Darling, seeing Mary's surprise, answered her unspoken question. "Oh yes, young men should always sow their wild oats before marriage. That way, when they are married, they never need long for another. Now Peter told me," Mrs. Peter Darling guided Mary by the arm out of the parlor into her private sitting room, "that George had no intention of bedding you before you were married, but had intended on, well, you know, dearest Mary," she continued, tittering, "tasting a few apples on your tree before buying the orchard of your hand. And then he got you in the wrong way on his first time," she tisked, "what a shame for poor George. It would have been much better for the both of you if he had tasted those apples. But George, poor George, never had the chance, and the way the other young ladies seem to be falling over him and he so flirtatious with them, it's only a matter of time before he strays."

Poor George? Poorer Mary most would reason, by that simple comment she was now frightened for her marriage. She had no idea what she would do if George took another to bed.

Peter's wife continued to throw wood on the fire she had started in Mary's mind. Holding Mary firmly arm in arm, she led her on a little stroll in her back garden. "Now Peter tells me you can't have anymore children, most unfortunate dear. So if George was to have his way with any of the young ladies frolicking around here, well, not having to prevent a child with you has left him out of practice. He might get one of them in the wrong way, is that not why you had to be married in the first place? And you and your precious children don't want any illegitimate babies born of him. I mean, a man of George's respectable stature, whatever would the neighbors think?"

"What would you advise?" Mary queried, having never thought of George with another, let alone giving that "another" his child.

"Well, since you ask... Maybe I could do the admirable thing and help your husband out. Instead of giving into the persuasion of some hussy that would cause loads of gossip and trouble, I would be willing to lie with him. Just so he could have some variety, mind you, and of course -- no one would ever know. And like you, I cannot have any children either so there is no worry for you in that matter. This is for you Mary, for you," Peter's wife insisted, battering the considerable ramparts of Mary's misgivings. She kept telling her that this was a special lesson to George just for Mary's sake. "Once he takes to bed with another woman, he will appreciate what he comes home to dearest. Without that, you are just asking for trouble and men have a way of always finding trouble."

Mary inquired after her brother-in-law, Peter, and the other woman told her, "Well dear, it was his idea. And if you were interested in taking him to bed, well, since I would be with your husband, I would not mind."

Mary flatly refused Peter that afternoon when he gave her the emerald gown, and later in the day at dinner, both times without speaking to him. But for her own husband, she was afraid to decline. "I don't want George to take another to bed, but if you think it will teach him a lesson --" Mary was baffled by her sister-in-law's arguments, muddling her own thinking at that moment, and Mrs. Peter Darling further deceived her with, "I'll flirt with him a little, perhaps, dearest Mary, I am completely wrong in my assumptions, we shall see."

Unfortunately, she did not appear wrong at all, for later that afternoon, before dinner, Peter's wife led George into her private bedroom and did her best to seduce him. "Sweet Mary ought to be ashamed keeping a gorgeous man like you all for herself." He was a tad drunk, not himself and -- at first -- quite willing. She got all his clothes off and consumed his member with her mouth, tasting his seed. She was in no way even close to Mary with her oral talents, but he came just the same.

When it was over, he looked down at her face, and saw unveiled the evil witch in Wendy's fairy tales who tricked him into eating the poisoned fruit. Quite a coincidence indeed, for her name was Eve as well. And just like Adam who was cast out of Eden for his sin, George was also to be sent away from his paradise. George pushed Eve off the bed and hurriedly dressed.

She winked at him as she left, "I'll see you later this evening so we can finished what we started, and I must say, I am so looking forward to it!" The moment the door to Eve's room closed, George vomited onto her bed.

George was not the only one she winked at, she winked at Mary, too, who was waiting in the parlor. "You were right Mary, he does taste very sweet on the tongue," Eve whispered licking her lips as she passed. George came down and saw Mary's face, the beautiful queen whom he had handed over to the enemy.

"THE KING HAS COMMITTED AN ACT OF TREASON, HANG HIM!" echoed in his ears as Mary ran from the room out into the gardens and away from him. Her king, a husband who would now forever be soiled in his wife's eyes, watched her go before taking flight after her. Disloyal and weak, he bowed his head in shame when he caught up to her crying in the grotto nearest the forest, the farthest place on Peter property. "Go back to your brother and your parties and your new friends," she wept, and George, still not himself, made an even worse mistake and left.

George returned to the house just in time to meet his brother and hear his own proposals asking for a fair trade of Mary's services. "You should share your wife with me, brother, for we are family. And now that you have had at mine, it is only right I have at yours. Don't you agree?"

The George that appeared to have waited in England now leapt across the sea and defended the Queen against the George that stayed with Mary in Paris. "Absolutely not, Peter, your wife practically threw herself at me. I will ask Mary only to be fair, but I will not make her do something she does not want to do," was all he could come up with after quickly reentering his body, having pushed the evil George out.

That night as they lay in bed, Mary, heartbroken, questioned him over and over again. "I don't know what's come over me this week, it's like I am a totally different person, and I have to tell you, Mary, I hate the man that I've been." He went on to explain to Mary what had transpired with their sister-in-law in her room.

Mary had her questions and she asked them one after the other. "Did you like it? Was she better than I? Do you want to be with more different women? Where will that leave us if you do? What will happen if you decide you want to be with another forever?"

The first three questions were answered easily, "No," followed by his apologies. The fourth did not require any response only a reassurance, "There will never be any others." George knew the fifth question was essential to the rest of their lives, and so he not only gave the reply but his entire body holding tightly to hers when he spoke to show how serious and true his words was, "No Mary, I could never imagine living my life with anyone but you."

George swore on his life and that of his children that he would never stray from Mary again. His guilt over his vile adultery, not to mention his broken wedding vows, consumed him on their trip home. He stared out the window and said nothing, grasping Mary's hands in his own so tightly she was convinced he was terrified that if she took them away, he would never feel her gentle touch again. The night of his infidelity, he bathed in water so hot it scalded his skin. When they arrived home, he bathed again, and like Mary had once done for an innocent act, he scrubbed himself raw. He was in the bathroom well over an hour when Mary finally knocked to check in on him.

"I just can't get it to wash away, I can't get clean of her," he told her as she gazed on him helpless in the tub with abrasions covering his skin. She helped him from the tub and held him. "Forgive me," he beseeched the lovely queen.

But she couldn't, at least not yet, and her outburst over his lack of costly gifts she felt he should shower her with for her profession, was more the result of his betrayal than of his neglect in buying her expensive present. And now, Mary found herself in the same dream that led to his pardon.

"You don't really love George all that much, do you, Madam?" Captain Hook dressed in his wet rags after he had finished with her for the second time.

Mary was too sore from his abusive intercourse to do anything but lie flat on her stomach on the damp planks of his cabin. "I love him with all my heart, more than I love myself," she whispered, for it hurt even to speak.

"Liar...Tell me then why would you let another woman take from him what is yours, hum?" He bent down and rolled her on her back.

She was cold, and goose bumps covered her entire body. "I did what I did to keep him -- How do you know that? How do you know about the other?" Mary asked.

"I know everything. You see, Madam; unlike what your brother-in-law claims, your husband and I are truly one and the same. I must say that I was shocked that you voluntarily let him be led away by his evil older brother when even his own mother called him the devil. If I were you, I would be mindful of wolves in sheep's clothing where your husband is concerned. And I would ask you to keep better watch over my children."

Mary sat up only a little and rested her weight on her elbows, "'my children'? Don't you mean I would ask you to keep a better watch over 'your own' children? Your own children." Mary sat up only to be kicked back down by Captain Hook.

"Did you have my children?" Captain Hook queried, placing his hand on his chin, "No Madam, you have your husband's children, well, you had your husband's children and now they are lost. So sad for you, is it not?" He stuck out his lower lip in a pout and frowned, dismayed, shaking his head mocking her grief.

Mary pleaded with him, "Return them to me please."

Captain Hook smiled and waved to her, "But I am the wicked pirate captain, Madam, I don't save children, I frighten them. Do you not listen to your daughter's stories, am I not the one who gets defeated and cast down to my death?"

Mary was now drifting away as if she was being carried by air alone.

"No, in Wendy's stories it is the pirate captain that saves the day!" Mary screamed out as Captain Hook stood with his hands on his hips watching her departure. Just when he was almost out of sight, she heard him ominously call, "Good then, I'd best get started ... Wendy ..."


	24. Chapter 24 The Good George

My Darling Love

Chapter 24 – The Good George

"_If there be trouble let it be in my day that my child may have peace."_

_-Thomas Paine_

"Wendy!" Mary bolted awake and to the children's beds.

They were empty, and now she was the one that felt lost. George awoke also and followed her about the room while she pulled back the blankets and made sure the children were not hiding under the covers. "Mary, are you alright, did you hear them return?" George asked, seemingly as lost as she.

Mary turned to George and remembered Captain Hook's words, and then she looked down horror-struck at her nightgown, stained with blood. "It's just your monthly, Mary," George offered as she rushed to the washroom and drew a boiling hot bath.

"It can't be my monthly, George, I haven't had one in years!" she wept as she undressed to get in. It was indeed just her monthly, but its coming was frighteningly coincidental to what had just taken place in her dream.

"The physician said once your organs were completely healed, there was a chance they would at times return, and this isn't the first time, Mary. You just had one in the fall, and before that last spring and there were other times before that as well. They don't come every month, but they do come. You are just better now, and maybe they will come back more regularly," George reasoned as he watched her ease into the hot water.

"But I will never have any more children..." Mary whispered sorrowfully to George who shook his head.

"No, Mary, no more children."

When she was bathed to her own satisfaction, and nearly scalded, she returned to the nursery. George sat on Wendy's bed waiting for her with the most innocent and unsuspecting face she had ever seen him wear. "George, I have to ask you something, and I want you to be honest. As honest as if your life depended upon it."

George fixed his glasses on his face and sat up straight, ready to be interrogated. He nodded to his wife when he felt prepared enough and she began.

"Why did you allow Peter's wife, Eve, to engage you in your tryst?"

George bowed his head, feeling the total disgrace. Any question but that one he was ready to answer. Unprepared, he became defensive, and countered very sternly, "It was your idea, you wanted me to. I thought we agreed never to speak about it again, Mary. I told you it would never happen again and that should be good enough."

Mary walked to her armchair and sat down casting her eyes out of the open window toward the cold twinkling stars. "Leave me alone, I want to wait for the children by myself," she said softly, more as a request for mercy than a demand made in anger.

"No, I want to wait here for them too. After all it is my fault they ran away." He planted himself back down at her feet and watched out the window. Mary could not get past George's aversion to discussing his one stray from her. Even experienced in marriage and with him, she couldn't see it. Doubts filled her mind at lightening speed. Finally when she could no longer bear the voices in her head, she yelled, "If you don't tell me why, the children will never come home and then it will be your fault!"

George's head sank again, and he closed his eyes. This time, he removed his spectacles and really gave his unfaithfulness some thought. He, too, had put it out of mind and had not thought deeply about it. In himself, he truly did not want to know the reason, for it hurt him so deeply that he'd done it. He started with, "I was drunk..." Mary waited, wisely knowing there was more. After a minute or so he continued, "She told me she had your permission, and I thought that meant you wanted me to." Seeing Mary's expression and knowing blaming her was not the right road to venture down he dug deeper.

"I know that I should have been as insistent as you were about Peter, but maybe I'm weak. No other woman but you has ever held the slightest interest in me. I was, well, curious -- I admit it.

"I had a completely different life in Paris than here, no rules, and no responsibilities, no ledgers to balance. It was like I was a child again, and I could have whatever my heart desired. Peter told me that whatever happened in Paris would stay in Paris, and I was foolish enough to believe him. He told me I should let myself go and have all the fun I wanted, for it was all free, paid for, and it was all for the taking, even his wife." He paused, remembering. "He was always after you, Mary. Maybe I thought that by having a go at her, I could one up him, sure that you would never bed him. And I was right and I was very wrong in my thinking. I forgot to calculate the expense and see what my actions would cost.

"Now I see that something that meant absolutely nothing to me could cost me everything. And now I will have to spend the rest of my life repaying a debt that, if I had been wiser, I would never even have owed. The worst part is, there is no amount of money that will buy back the simple fact of you, Mary, being the only woman that I have ever been with in that way. So knowing that I had at his wife, and he will never have at mine is totally irrelevant. He wanted you to begin with, before we were married, so in that matter, I had already 'won' and there was no competition, only the one I created. I was greedy, and I wanted that extra something that would prove to him I was better than he.

"And all that time, I was already the better man, already the luckier man, and I should have been more concerned proving that to myself and my wife."

"Did you make love to her? You just said you had at her. Did you?" Mary asked, still keeping her eyes out the window into the night.

"In order to make love to her, I would have to love her. I told you she only put it in her mouth, she was still dressed,' George responded miserably, watching his wife's distant gaze.

"But you wanted to, had she not wanted to taste you first, you would have," Mary said looking at him, her heart broken along with his.

"Mary, dearest, can we not put this all behind us and forget it ever happened? I am not that man from Paris -- that man was left behind! I am your George, the one the one you married. You must forgive me, Mary. You must! We agreed to leave all that behind in the past, please, can we not do that? I swore to you it would never happen again and it won't, I will not even speak with my brother Peter again either. You are my family, you and our children -- please forgive me, Mary. Please!" George held her hands and she turned her eyes back to him once more when he knelt before her. "Mary, if you don't forgive me and forget, knowing how repentant I am for my sins, that anger you hold within...God will never send the children back to us." His eyes now begged for compassion, and so she nodded her head.

With all that was said, she closed her eyes, and both George and Mary said a prayer, "Dearest God, please help us find our children, lead them back to us as we are truly lost without them, guide us on our quest to bring them home...."

Mary drifted back to sleep. When she landed in the dream world, Captain Hook was waiting and as she approached, he met her unexpected surprise with, "Ah, Madam, back again so soon?"

"Wendy, the magic of being a child does not end when you grow up. More so, you will see it becomes more powerful as it changes in your adulthood. You have simple emotions now, you are happy or sad or excited or angry. But when you become a woman, those emotions will run deeper because you will no longer be self-centered in your world. You will care about other people, most of them you will love more than yourself. Instead of only seeing how your choices affect yourself you will see and feel how your actions affect others as well. It is a great responsibility, but with care and love the rewards are endless." Those words came to Gwendolyn Angelina Darling from the most unlikely of sources. Not only did they give her thoughts of the grown up world awaiting her, they made her instantly homesick.

In Neverland, Wendy and her brothers slept in the green grass. It had only been a few days, but strangely, she already wanted to go home. She missed her mother and her father, Grandpa Joe, Nana, and even Aunt Millicent. She missed her friends and her schoolwork; she missed her nursery and her warm bed.

"Dreams are wonderful, because they are always perfect. They only exist in your mind and you can make them whatever you want them to be. If there is something you don't like, you can change it. There is no need to be sad that they will never really be real, because you can carry them with you forever and relive them at your leisure. It would be so sad if they came true, and things did not come to pass as you had wanted, then you would always have the memory of your disappointment where your dreams used to be." Thus Captain Hook informed Wendy when she asked him when her fairy tale adventures of being a pirate would begin. Even though she was having a glorious time, Wendy was regretting that she was now living her dream. Already she faced disenchantments. Peter was a boy who would never grow up. He would never be a man that got married and made babies with his wife.

"Oh tis a thankless job of father and husband, that is why Peter Pan doesn't want to grow up. He's afraid of growing old. But growing up is natural part of childhood. Who wants to stay young forever? After a while, it gets tiresome without change. But to stay here stranded as a child forever is Peter Pan's choice, not yours, dearest Wendy. If you stay here in Neverland there will never go to elegant cotillions and dinner parties, there will never be dancing and music and fun. You will never be married or have babies or see your own babies have babies or go anywhere but here. And is here where you really want to stay? Forever? Oh no, I should think not, who would want to stay with a boy when she can go home, grow up an marry a man who is real and made a choice to be that way," Captain Hook tempted her as he led her back on shore to safety.

Wendy watched as he slowly made his way on his launch with Mr. Smee. Peter had said he was dangerous, and she should never try to engage him in battle. "Let me handle Hook," he'd told her the day she arrived. Now, as the man hoisted himself back aboard the Jolly Roger without ever threatening her or slashing her from navel to neck, she realized she was not at all afraid of Captain Hook, rather, she found herself entranced.

For the first time in her life, Wendy began to understand her father. She understood why he made her mother happy. He was a grown up who wanted to marry her and kiss her; he gave her children. George worked for his family, he gave them warmth and shelter and love. Her father never asked for anything in return but their respect for his hard work and appreciation for the sacrifices he had made for them. Wendy felt guilty for thinking him a cowardly king.

If anyone was a coward, she saw now it was Peter Pan. As brave as he seemed and fearless in battle with the dread pirate Captain Hook, he was afraid to grow up. Wendy was not afraid and now she was ready. She opened her eyes and poked John awake. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his sister. "I want to go home," she said and he nodded his head in agreement.

"Me too," John whispered.

Michael fell in with, "I miss Mother's muffins and Grandpa Joe's pancakes. And I know this sounds strange, but I don't feel safe anymore without father around to protect us...."

Captain Hook sat on a rock near the beach and watched with great interest as Mary approached. He rose and bowed to her, and then sat back down as she drew nearer to where he waited. "I was hoping you would return, Madam." He offered her his arm, and she accepted it as they proceeded to the small launch that would take them back to where the Jolly Roger had run aground and was rotting in the ocean. "I'll assume you feel to be a wife and mother is a bore. If adventure out there on the high seas is what you desire we will find it together." Captain Hook stepped into the boat and extended his arm to aid her entry, but she refused shaking her head. "I see, Madam, you have not come for me, but for your children."

"I am a wife and mother, by my choice. I decided a long time ago to grow up and be an adult with responsibilities. Responsibilities to others that I love."

When Mary said the word love Captain Hook stuck out his tongue as if he would retch at any moment. "Love is such a unusual emotion, it always seems to be wasted on those who will never appreciate it. Does your husband love you?"

Mary tilted her head and replied, "Yes, he does, and you give the impression of someone who knows nothing of true love. I wonder, has anyone loved you in your entire life?"

"Yes," he answered raising his head proudly.

"Who, your men? They feared you. They did not love you. If they loved you, they would have never left you behind. They were rats who escaped the sinking ship." She turned his attention with her finger to the Jolly Roger that as she spoke had begun to sink, hull first into the ocean.

"My men do love me, and appreciate me. That, Madam, is not the Jolly Roger, that is the vessel they came to me on when they arrived." Captain Hook made as if to speak, to offer her an enlightenment of his love, but then thought better of it. "Just go back to your life, Madam, with your husband in your house and be happy!" he shouted, yanking her by the arm into the launch.

She fought him all the way into the boat and began kicking him in defense. Captain Hook caught her neatly by the arms from behind, making her ineffective. "Wendy thinks that you love me. She asked me to save to save you? Why?"

"Because my daughter is a child, with a child's heart. She does not see the evils in the world. She is entranced by danger and easily misled by others with wicked motives unseen by innocent eyes. And it is not her right to decide who is to save me! Now tell me where you have my children."

He pushed her forward away from him, "After what you just told to me, 'easily misled by others with wicked motives unseen by innocent eyes,' and all you've seen with your own eyes, how could you possibly think I would be the one trying to keep your children here!" In his anger he picked her up and flung her overboard, Mary landing in the waist high water. "Go home, Madam, only your husband can save your children now. I wonder where he is?" The waves were crashing into Mary and she could not keep her balance. "The tide is coming in, and soon you will be swept out to sea with the undertow. Now where is that valiant husband of yours when you need him? With his sister-in-law still? Getting a little more variety? You know, Madam, your brother-in-law said variety is the spice of life."

There was no doubt now; she was drowning in the seas that suddenly changed from calm waters to a violent churning that swept her under. "Help me, save me!" Mary shouted to the pirate captain.

Captain Hook yanked Mary up by her hair one final time and whispered in her ear, "There are worse hells that are to come to you, Madam, from which I will not be able to save you, because, after all, I am not George Darling. But you must always remember, Madam, because of me, God keeps you in the corner of his eye."

He released Mary who was immediately knocked down by another wave and, she fought hard against the salt water that flooded over her. Just when she regained her footing, another wave rushed in and over her. She closed her eyes and held her breath as the waters began to take her farther and farther from shore. Captain Hook watched with an odd expression of loss as she sped past him on the heel of an upsurge. "Fear not the waters, Madam, you will be back to your husband in the safety of your home before you open your eyes," he called out to her and she went under once more.

When she opened her eyes she was sitting on her bed in her room. Pebbles hit the window, and she ran to it, expecting to see the children waiting below. "Open the door Father, the children are home!" she called out, but no one answered. She threw up the window and there standing in the street she saw George waving up to her.

"Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, I love you and I want to save you! I'm not rich but I have enough money to make you comfortable in a small home with three children, a dog, and Grandpa Joe. Even your Aunt Millicent is always welcome over for dinner, even though we never invite her. I know it is not a lot to offer a grand lady such as you, and if you want to be saved by Captain Hook, I will understand and leave, but you must remember God sent me specially to you. You asked for me and here I am. I will never be allowed enter into heaven if I didn't at least ask you to reconsider..."

Mary, in her bathrobe, immediately climbed out the bedroom window and down the trellis to the street, calling out for George as she went. A few feet from the sidewalk she missed her footing and fell. She landed safely on top of her husband, who was also in his pajamas. "George!" she shouted to his unconscious body below her.

"Mary?" he groaned back.

"You saved me, you saved me!" She hugged him tightly as he moaned again in pain.

"What were you doing climbing down the trellis, the front door would have been much faster and safer, Mary Elizabeth!" Grandpa Joe shouted as he also ran out in his pajamas.

"Where are the children?" Mary asked her father as he helped George to his feet.

"We were just about to ask you the same thing. Where did you see them?" Grandpa Joe asked as he helped George into the house and lowered him onto the sofa.

"I thought they were the ones throwing pebbles at my window. But it was George," Mary responded, removing George's robe and finding a piece of wood from the trellis caught in his side.

"George must have run out when he heard you call that the children were home," Aunt Millicent said, before fainting at the sight of blood that poured from George.

"Oh my God, George." Mary clutched him to her. His glasses were broken and blood leaked from his mouth. "Please don't leave me, I can't go on without you," she pled as he again drifted into unconsciousness.

"Best call for the doctor," Grandpa Joe added as he put on his coat and fled out into the night. "Stay with him!" Grandpa Joe shouted as he broke into a run as soon as he reached the sidewalk.

"George, you saved me again. I was drowning and you rescued me. I love you so much, please don't go."

George opened his eyes and gave a weak smile to Mary. "Its not that bad, Mary, it's only a scrape."

Mary wiped the blood from his mouth and cried harder. "I bit my tongue when you fell on me, that's why my mouth is bleeding. Really, I'll be fine." And in an hour he was fine, very sore and in need of several stitches in his side, but fine nonetheless. The doctor and Grandpa Joe brought him to his bed and gave him a shot of morphine to dull the pain. In only minutes he was in a deep sleep. "Try not to climb out anymore windows, Mrs. Darling. You know, dear, you are not a young girl of eighteen anymore," the doctor offered as he tipped his hat and left.

Mary returned to the nursery and sat in the chair by the window. Something was oddly incorrect; there was no cold breeze. She was up in a heartbeat to the window; she unlatched it and yanked it up high.

"Mother, it's cold in here. Must we keep the window open?" Michael whined from his bed.

Mary spun around to see all three of her children lying snuggly in their beds, covers pulled to their necks.

She ran to each one of them and snatched them up in her arms, kissing them from head to toe. "My babies! My precious babies, you've come back!" She cried tears of joy and made them stand before her so she could memorize them just as they were. Definitely different from the last time she saw them, they were filthy and their nightclothes were torn and stained. She did not ask them where they were or where they went, but just kept hugging and kissing them, wanting to forever.

"Where is father?" John asked. "Is he mad and doesn't want to see us?" Wendy said nothing, only showing a sad face.

"No, your father saved me tonight, children."

Mary brought them all into her room and showed the children their father lying in bed. She removed the bed sheet and unbuttoned his pajama top exposing the bandaging that the doctor had wrapped around his wound. Both John and Michael looked with mouths gaped wide to Wendy who was crying. "You were right, Father was the courageous knight who saved us, Peter Pan, and mother from Captain Hook and his pirates, Wendy," John managed.

Grandpa Joe came upstairs when he heard the pitter patter of little feet scurrying around above his head. He too rejoiced at their return, squeezing them together so tightly in his grandfatherly hug that none of them could breath.

The children were bathed and fed a midnight feast of pancakes and muffins. Even Nana got to sit at the table and enjoy the laughter and happiness of the family reunited.

Aunt Millicent awoke from her fainting spell only to pass out again when the children jumped on her to announce their homecoming.

Normally, the children never wanted to go to bed, but tonight they could not wait to retire. They snuggled up in their warm beds, and Mary waited until they all were fast asleep before she left them. Not only did she lock the nursery window, she barricaded it, closing it off with the children's bookcase, dresser and another dresser just for good measure. As they slept in their own beds, Mary knelt on her hands and knees and prayed, "Dearest God, thank you for giving me George, thank you for returning my children safely to me, and thank you...I don't know why, but thank you for whatever it was that Captain Hook did that made my babies want to come to me and George."

God heard her prayer and smiled down on her appreciation even if she didn't truly understand its merit.

Mary went to her room to remove a key from George's coat pocket and went downstairs to his desk. She opened his "dreams" drawer and gazed at the contents within. There were several clippings from the newspaper, listings for larger homes and estates for sale. On one sheet of ledger paper, he had figured out the expenses of having a full time maid, nanny and cook. On another ledger sheet, he had written how much money he wanted for each of his children to be saved by their eighteenth birthday, and each week he listed a new deposit making his goal almost reachable by the time they were ten years old. He had well surpassed the amount he wished for, and still every week he added more cash into their accounts making the totals higher and higher. The last item in the drawer was a file folder filled with legal documents. It took Mary all night to read through it, and by dawn she finally reached the last page dated only the day before, the last lines stated.

Mr. James Shipman has acknowledged receipt of your final payment. You can take custody of his only child, a daughter Margaret Penelope Shipman, on March 15th of this year. He will sign and relinquish his parental rights on or before that date. Please see enclosed documents to have the child's name changed to Margaret Penny Darling.

There were no enclosed documents, so Mary knew George had already filled them out and sent them away. She exhaled deeply and inhaled just the same. "Penny..." she said softly to the quiet house. "It was supposed to be a surprise, Mary." Grandpa Joe said as he bent down and kissed his only daughter on her head.

_Author's Note: This is not the end of the story, far from it..._

__


	25. Chapter 25 Margaret Penny Davis

My Darling Love

Chapter 25 – Margaret Penny Davis

"_She was a perfect lady, just sat in her seat and stared."_

_-Eudora Welty_

"You were not supposed to know till after everything was fully arranged and settled. He didn't want disappoint you, if it should not happen." Grandpa Joe sat in his armchair and lit his pipe.

"Where are we going to put another child in this house?" Mary asked looking about. The Darling residence only had three bedrooms with one bathroom. There was a dining room, kitchen and formal parlor on the first floor, and when everyone was home, one could not take a step without bumping into another. "I don't want you to move in with Aunt Millicent, she'll either drive you insane or kill you in your sleep," Mary continued, "There just isn't any room. As it is, we should put Wendy in her own bedroom, for now that she is becoming a young lady, it will be improper to make her share space with the boys. There is just no place to put another child in this house."

"We'll make room," Grandpa Joe assured his daughter. "You always forget about the attic. It's just a huge empty loft, and with some work, I think it will make a nice living space for Wendy and Margaret. You know, Mary Elizabeth, Wendy has always dreamed of a sister. This is better, they will be like twins, so close in age."

Wendy awoke first that morning, and went to find her mother. Over tea and crumpets, she told her mother of all their adventures in Neverland. Wendy ended with the story of how they escaped. "Well, we decided it was time to come home and we told Peter. He was mad that we wanted to leave, and begged John, Michael and me to stay. We just couldn't, mother, and we told him that we must go home and grow up. We were just about to take our leave when we ran smack into the middle of a trap set by Captain Hook and his pirates. He captured all of us and took us to his ship and then made me walk the plank."

"He made you walk the plank?" Mary asked, shocked.

"Yes, and when I fell off, Peter caught me and saved me. There was a fierce battle between Peter Pan and Captain Hook, and all the pirates and all the lost boys. Peter Pan was losing, he had already been sliced, and he even fell from the sky because Captain Hook took away all his happy thoughts. But then the most wonderful thing happened."

Mary leaned toward Wendy, showing her intrigue, so Wendy continued. "Father came dressed in his pajamas. Captain Hook and his pirates were laughing at him, but he didn't care. Mr. Smee, Captain Hook's first mate, gave father a sword and he and Captain Hook dueled. Father is a brave and an experienced swordsman." Wendy knew she was giving her mother information she was not yet privy to.

"Captain Hook stabbed father and he fell. Then the dread pirate bent down and whispered something in his ear. I was screaming, and he looked at me. And then when all seemed lost, father pulled out a diamond necklace, it looked a lot like the one he gave you at Christmas, but with loads more diamonds. It was so beautiful, mother, something worthy of a queen. He traded all of us for it, I suppose, and Captain Hook agreed. But father being clumsy, tripped over Peter Pan's foot and almost fell overboard. Then something even more amazing happened." Mary was waiting with bated breath on the edge of her seat, "Captain Hook saved father," Wendy said slapping the table in disbelief, shocked at her own story.

"Really, why?"

"I have no idea! But Hook saved him, and then he whispered something else in his ear and then they shook hands. Mr. Smee loaded us all up into a boat after we were pulled from the water and he was going to take us all home. But Peter cried out for us and said we couldn't trust Captain Hook, we must remain behind and defeat him. Father left the way he arrived, and with him gone, mother, we stayed behind to continue with the battle. My kiss saved Peter! He got strong again and took flight with Captain Hook and fought in the sky. In the end Peter still didn't want us to leave, but we did because we wanted to come home and grow up. It was a marvelous adventure, Mother!"

"What of Captain Hook, Wendy?" Mary asked, leaning her head against her arm, which rested on the table.

"Dead. He conceded his defeat to Peter Pan and fell out of the sky -- because he had no happy thoughts -- into the mouth of a crocodile waiting below, and it swallowed Captain Hook up whole. It even burped its delight in the scrumptious meal."

Wendy could not tell by her mother's face if she believed her or not, for Mary's face seemed to sadden when she heard of the pirate captain's fate. But that didn't matter, because that is what Wendy would always remember of that fateful day.

Peter Pan brought them back the to nursery and told them to wait for their parents, as it would take longer for grown ups to return from Neverland. "Your mother was there to save you, but Captain Hook held her captive on shore, she escaped and will be home any second." Peter Pan informed Wendy.

Wendy watched her father fall from the sky and then her mother, who landed right on top of him. "We shall stay in bed and surprise them when they come upstairs," Wendy told her brothers. Wendy now smiled at Mary who brushed the hair out of her daughter's face. "Mother, I am ready to grow up."

Mary nodded her head, "I know, my dearest, but not yet. You should have a few more days of happy dreams and childhood left."

The boys came down and they ate breakfast, both with their own stories and adventures. They pretty much had the same as their sister's, with the exception of Captain Hook. Apparently, she was the only one of the Darling children to meet him personally.

Grandpa Joe took the children from the house and to morning mass to thank the Lord for bringing them back home. The congregation gathered and watched the children enter with their grandfather. The priest said a special prayer of appreciation to God for guiding the Darling children back to their family unharmed. After church, the children headed with their grandfather to the police station. There, they received the same reception from the constables as they did from the parishioners, loads of hugs and kisses. Oddly, no one asked the children of their whereabouts, gladly accepting Grandpa Joe's simple declaration of, "The children have safely returned home to us!"

After the station house, they stopped by the bakery and picked up special treats to go visiting with Aunt Millicent. She had taken to bed due to shock, and was moaning and groaning rather loudly in her bed when they arrived. It seemed every time she opened her eyes and saw John, Michael and Wendy she would faint. She finally did come around, but only to clutch to the children, begging them, "Please never do that to us again. We could not go on without you..."

Mary spent the day lying next to George in bed. But first, she went to her dreams drawer in her vanity. There, she removed her wedding invitation to the bigger fish and the stationary with her married name, "_Mary Elizabeth Fisher._" She also removed the picture Wendy made of her and Captain Hook, and story Wendy had written where the lovely queen escapes the cowardly king and runs away with the pirate captain. (In this story, the cowardly king is stabbed through the heart and the lovely queen laughs while her king lays dying, begging for mercy.) She brought all the items downstairs to the fireplace and threw them into the dancing flames. "I love you, George," she said, as the last bits turned to ashes.

George woke up in the middle of the afternoon, and found Mary fully dressed napping beside him. Wendy sat in the chair next to his bedside, and when he opened his eyes, she touched his hand to gain his attention. George turned toward his daughter, and she asked, "Father, what did Captain Hook tell you?"

George signaled toward his eyeglass case on his dresser. She retrieved his spare spectacles and gave them to him. Once they were affixed on his face he answered her question. "He told me my children love me, my wife loves me, and even the family pet loves me. He told me to never stop fighting for them, and only accept victory or death."

Wendy did not know what he meant, but Mary knew, and she held her tongue and listened to George recount his side of the story. "I don't know where that necklace came from in my pajamas, but suddenly it was there. He said it originally belonged to him and he wanted it back. He mumbled something about it being a sacred reminder of his past that someone had entrusted me with. I told him no one would ever trust me with something so precious. I wish I could have kept it for your mother."

George was sad and Wendy tried to comfort him as best she could. "It was only a dream father, mother's necklace is just as beautiful." George turned his head from Wendy, seeing Mary, eyes closed beside him, he rose up from the bed and dressed in his bathrobe. "Wendy, you are not supposed to be in this room."

Wendy's smile turned to a frown, but only until George offered, "Your mother would be displeased that a young lady such as yourself was not properly dressed for dinner." He removed the gold bracelet with green stones from Mary's jewelry box and gave it Wendy. "You should wear this at dinner tonight, and a dress to match."

Still a child at heart, not quite ready to grow up, Wendy still enjoyed playing dress up. She hugged and kissed her father who squeezed her just as tightly and ran from the room. George closed Mary's jewelry drawer and opened the wardrobe. Mary sat up after Wendy left and watched George dress. "I sold your necklace, Mary, the day after I gave it to you," he told her, not returning her gaze, but feeling her eyes on the back of his head nonetheless.

"To pay James Shipman?"

George spun on his heel, clutching his injured side. "How did you know that?"

Grandpa Joe told her to tell George he was the one who spilled the secret, so she did. "My father told me when I asked him to pick it up from the jewelers. He said you didn't know how to tell me. He also said the jeweler paid you top dollar for it, seeing it was of the finest quality."

"Dear Mary, it was hardly in your possession more than a few hours. But there was nowhere else to take the money from. I'm using almost all our savings to build a room adequate for Wendy in the attic, which was also to be a surprise, so Grandpa Joe doesn't have to move. I will not take any money out of the children's savings, for that is for their futures alone. I will not ask your Aunt Millicent for a single cent. I know what she would say, 'George Darling, why ever would you want another mouth to feed. You are just fortunate with your incompetence that Mary can no longer have babies, otherwise you would have a dozen children by now!'" George performed his best Aunt Millicent impression.

"I'm not upset, George, I just want to know how did you ever think of bringing Penny's daughter here?" Mary asked, resting her head on his shoulder as she stood behind him.

"Her father is a drunk degenerate gambler. He had her begging in the streets by the bank. It was the middle of winter and she was dressed in rags, filthy from head to toe. She had bugs crawling in her hair and was covered in sores. She didn't even have shoes on her feet. Well, it broke my heart. So I called our lawyer and had him send a request to her father. He wanted an enormous amount of money, so I began sending him payments. When the money coming was not fast enough, he threatened to put that innocent child, who is only a few months older than our Wendy, out on the streets as a prostitute. I couldn't let that happen, so I sold your necklace. I'm worse than a thief."

"No, George," his wife told him, tears in her eyes. "You are my hero."

George shook his head, "I should have asked."

Mary pulled her husband around to face her. She touched his cheek, "You know what my answer would have been. I would have given you permission to sell my necklace, my grandmother's broche, my new hair clip and even my silver vanity set. And now Wendy will have the sister she always wanted!" She finished with a kiss that settled all arguments. There was the beating of several fists on the bedroom door. "Yes?" Mary asked.

Three young voices chorused, "We're starving mother and there is no supper." George and Mary smiled at one another, joyous to hear those three voices again.

"That's because we are all going to a restaurant tonight, my treat." Grandpa Joe bellowed from the other side.

"No that's alright, I can make something quickly," Mary replied, wiping happy tears from her cheeks.

"No, I will not hear of it, what's the use of having money for retirement when George will not allow me to spend any of it!"

George and Mary headed out and down the stairs where the family waited by the foyer. The children celebrated around their father, almost carrying him from the house. If they were able to hoist him on their shoulders in victory they would have.

Mary followed out with her father, and he told Mary, "Even after selling your diamonds, there still was not enough money. I gave George the rest. I also told him I would be buying my own pipe tobacco from now on. I wanted to leave to make more room for you and your family, but he told me I was family." He kissed Mary on the cheek and extended his arm to escort his only daughter to their dinner at the finest restaurant in all of London.

March 15th rolled around rather quickly and Margaret Penny Shipman Darling landed on their doorstep that very morning.

George had not exaggerated. She was covered in grime. She appeared as though she had not been bathed in her whole life. Not only was she covered in sores from neglect, but also in bruises as well from the beatings her father gave her. It took Mary the entire morning to get her clean. She sat the silent child in the tub of warm suds and washed her. Then she would wrap Margaret in a clean towel, drain the tub, scrub it, and then refill it with water and make Margaret wash again.

Her hair was lice infested, so, with Grandpa Joe's help, they soaked her head in kerosene and then shaved her hair off with George's razor. Mary rubbed cream on Margaret's bald scalp to ease the blisters that developed from the harsh treatment to rid her head of bugs. Mary then showed Margaret how to gracefully wrap a scarf around her head to hide her missing hair. "When it grows back, it will be as lovely as your mother's, I promise."

Margaret was malnourished and small for her age. Even though she was months older than Wendy, she was as smaller than Michael. She appeared to be skin on bones, and when Mary asked if she had received her monthlies, Margaret shook her head no. "She has not reached puberty yet, she has no breasts," Aunt Millicent observed when she came to greet the newest Darling child.

Throughout Margaret's first day in the Darling residence, she didn't utter a peep. Mary altered a few of Wendy's dresses to fit Margaret, and fed her breakfast and lunch. Margaret wolfed down the food as if was to be her last meal ever.

When she was finished eating, she pushed up her sleeves and, without being asked, removed the mop and bucket from the closet and began to scrub the floor. "Oh no, dearest, children do not do housework in this home, Mr. Darling will not hear of it." Aunt Millicent pulled Margaret to her feet and sat her back down.

"Can you read?" Aunt Millicent asked as Mary watched with a wry smile at Millicent's tender attitude. Margaret shook her head. "You cannot read? Have you ever been educated in school?" Again, Margaret shook her head no. "Well, we must begin your education this very instant. Mary I am taking Margaret with me to enroll her in school." Mary began to object, wanting George to meet the child first and appraise the situation for himself, but Aunt Millicent ignored her and stalked from the house with Margaret's small hand clasped in hers.

They had intended it to be a surprise for the children when they came home to find a new sister. George even left work early to arrive home before them. They all found the same thing when they walked through the door. "She was not sent?" George asked when he found Mary and her father sitting in the parlor.

"Yes, she arrived just after you left for work," Mary responded shrugging her shoulders. "Aunt Millicent took her this afternoon to enroll her in school and has not yet returned." The children came home next and took no notice of their parents' baffled expressions. By supper, with Aunt Millicent and Margaret still absent, George and Grandpa Joe took a cab to her home. They returned at midnight. "I fed the children and sent them to bed, where's Margaret?" Mary asked when the two gentlemen returned, empty-handed.

"My sister wants to keep Margaret with her," Grandpa Joe answered, shaking his head. "She says there is no room here for another child, and her house is big and empty and she is alone with no one to love. She says Margaret will need round-the-clock care to bring her to her natural beauty and talents, and with three other children tugging on your skirts, you will not be able to give her the undivided attention she requires." Grandpa Joe was almost laughing as he was talking, especially when he looked at George. "Go ahead George, show your wife."

George had an expression of stunned disbelief. He emptied his coat pockets, his sweater pockets, pants pockets and a large velvet bag he carried with him. "Apparently, this is Margaret's dowry." Grandpa Joe broke into hearty laughter.

The coffee table in the Darling parlor was covered in priceless jewels of every shape and color. Expensive necklaces, broaches, bracelets and earrings, every piece of jewelry worth value Aunt Millicent had to offer. There was even the tiara Mary remembered from her own childhood. Millicent spanked her for playing with it when she was five. She still remembered the tongue-lashing she got. "These stones are real, do you know how many loaves of bread your father would have to sell to replace one diamond chip on this crown!"

George continued. "She said she will bring Margaret by every day to spend time with Wendy and the boys, but more Wendy than John and Michael. They will have their etiquette lessons together and Aunt Millicent said she will be buying both Margaret's party dresses as well as Wendy's from now on," George managed, still stunned by Millicent's unprecedented generosity. "It seems she wants to adopt Margaret from us. She wants to change Margaret's last name from Darling to Davis. I had no idea Aunt Millicent's last name was Davis." By now he sounded dumbfounded.

"What did you think her last name was, George?" Mary asked, just as perplexed by her Aunt's request.

"Baker. That's the name on all her accounts," George answered.

"Yes, sweetheart, Baker is her maiden name. I understand what you mean; she has not used Davis since I was a small girl, right after her husband died. I'm a little befuddled as to why she would go back to using it now."

Grandpa Joe solved the mystery. "Because she wants Margaret to be her daughter, and she cannot have a child of her own without being married. What would the neighbors think? When someone asks Margaret, as a young lady when she is courted, who her father was, she will say the former Mr. Davis," Grandpa Joe declared, understanding. Both Mary and George nodded their heads to one another and rolled their eyes at the formalities Aunt Millicent still insisted upon. "She says she will send papers over in the morning," Grandpa Joe told her as he went to his room.

"But what of us? We don't want Margaret to think we don't want her," Mary voiced her misgivings to George, who sat in an armchair lost in his own thoughts, blinded by the gems staring at him on the coffee table.

"I don't think that will be a problem, Aunt Millicent already had the poor girl calling her 'mother'," Grandpa Joe responded from the top of the stairs.

Mary looked to her husband who removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes questioning aloud, "I wonder what her neighbors will think?"


	26. Chapter 26 The Torrid Tales

_Author's note: This chapter was a mess when originally written – special thanks to Cheetahlee for helping straighten and tidy up the lines._

_Some Topics of an Offensive Nature._

My Darling Love

Chapter 26 – The Torrid Tales

"_If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance."_

_-George Bernard Shaw_

Mary and George went to bed without speaking. Their astonishment continued through the next morning. George went to work with an off-handed peck on the cheek from his wife, and Mary later gave the same to the children. With the house emptied, Mary headed to Aunt Millicent's home.

A servant greeted her at the door, and then commented haughtily that Mary was unexpected and Mrs. Davis was "quite busy with her daughter." Mary insisted on seeing her aunt nonetheless, and was received in the formal parlor by Millicent and her new child, Margaret, who was dressed in one of the expensive formal sitting gowns that was once Mary's when she was a guest there herself. Margaret had an equally expensive wig on her head, decorated with a hair clip and curls.

They, Aunt Millicent and Margaret, both held the same snooty expression as the butler. "You see, dearest Margaret, your cousin Mary here has forgotten her manners. It is unladylike to call on someone so early in the morning without an invitation."

Mary could not even begin to count the many times Aunt Millicent arrived at her doorstep and had dinner at her home without invitation, not to mention all the other events in her and her family's life where they would have wished her elsewhere, but allowed her presence, without any comment, just to be polite. Never, not once, did they ever call her "ill-mannered" nor "discourteous" for showing up unexpectedly at all hours of the day and night.

All of that, for now, she would overlook, but not the informality of her name. Margaret was to have called Mary herself "mother," not Aunt Millicent. She felt the informality of "Mary" was now unacceptable, and corrected the error of bad manners Aunt Millicent now taught her new daughter. "In polite society, because of my age and status as a gentleman's wife, not to mention the fact that I have children of my own, you, Margaret, will call me Mrs. Darling."

Aunt Millicent scoffed that George was far from a gentleman, "I'll explain after she leaves..." Aunt Millicent whispered as she tapped her new daughter on the arm.

"Very well, Aunt Millicent, you can tell her what you like, but she will call me Mrs. Darling, for I have earned that name," Mary retorted, turning on her heel. She knew from past experience what Aunt Millicent would now relate about her and her children to the little girl after she left. Aunt Millicent would likely tell Margaret that she would surely grow to be a far better young lady, simply because she was born to married parents, as opposed to Wendy, who was conceived outside the laws of England and the church sanctifying the union.

In addition, Aunt Millicent would always have more money and a better home with grander and more impressive friends. Therefore Margaret would marry better. "The bigger fish, for certain," Grandpa Joe told his daughter Mary when she arrived home and recounted her visit. "I'll tell you what, Mary Elizabeth, have George sign those papers Aunt Millicent sent over."

Mary refused, "Think of the child, father, what kind of life would that be? Aunt Millicent is horrible with children. She thinks Margaret a china doll that she can dress up and dance about like toy."

Grandpa Joe shook his head, "From what you are telling me, it didn't seem like she minded being Millicent's pretty baby doll. For the time being, I don't see any way around it. I read what her lawyer sent. She says if you don't let her adopt Margaret, she'll sue, and she'll get custody of your other children too. Read it, it says in the first paragraph that you and George are unfit parents."

Mary read it, and read it again. She marched all the way to the bank and showed her husband George, and he read it and read it again. "Very well," he said as he signed his name to the contract. "But she will not get any of her jewelry back. I will sell it and put the money in a savings account for Margaret. I will document everything pawned, and every penny I put in the bank." Mary nodded in agreement, and just like that, Mr. and Mrs. George Darling, with heavy hearts, for the first time, truly lost a child.

Aunt Millicent came calling -- unannounced -- with Margaret later in the week for dinner. Grandpa Joe answered the door and politely told his sister that there was simply not enough food for guests that came uninvited.

"We shall eat at the finest restaurant in London then. Good evening," she sneered and yanked poor Margaret by her arm down the stairs.

"Oh, Grandpa Joe! I never refuse anyone who is hungry food from my table. We would have made do, and besides, there is always plenty!" George said, as the door was slammed on the new Davis Family.

"She chose the rules to play by. There should be no exceptions to those in your castle, son," Grandpa Joe responded. He called George "son" often, and still it caught George by surprise. It always flattered him so, and he smiled.

Wendy turned fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and then seventeen and soon she was to be a young lady of eighteen, only a month from her birthday. She was as tall as Mary and just as shapely. Although no one would say it out loud, it was common knowledge that she was even more attractive than her mother. Mary admitted this to George, who concurred. "She was made from the purest and most exquisite love. She has the best of both of us. Why would you expect any less?"

George had the room fitted for Wendy in the attic; it was spacious and considerably larger than the nursery. Mary helped Wendy decorate it to her liking, and when she was ready to take the first steps into womanhood at only fourteen, George bought for her, her own vanity table and chair. Mary gave her George's gift from Paris and showed her how to make herself "grown up" pretty, real, no longer pretending. Wendy preferred no makeup, and truthfully, she did not need it. "When you are ready," Mary offered and Wendy finally accepted when she turned sixteen.

John was thirteen when his changes began. Nothing more interesting happened to him between his return from Neverland to the time he turned into the young man of almost sixteen he now was. He was nearly identical to George in everyway, "A mirror image of his father," everyone who knew them would say. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Grandpa Joe was heard frequently to chuckle. From his choice of spectacles to his shy disposition, even his aspirations of being a banker were the same.

Suddenly, one evening at dinner, his voice fell from the higher pitch everyone was used to, to a lower tone, then rose there again. It was quite funny, but George shushed Wendy and Michael, the only two to laugh, with a stern and fierce face. That night John was given "the lecture," being a boy who was on the verge of becoming a man. George was nervous about discussing such personal matters to his first-born son, but seeing his own face just as nervous staring back at him made it a simple task.

He already knew the questions John had, and he answered them from the depths of his own wisdom. He left John with, "As you mature further, I will explain step by step. You should never be concerned that I would think less of you when you have uncertainties that you want to discuss with me. The only question I will ever consider foolish is the one left unasked."

And for the rest of his life, John had questions, but from that simple sentiment from the heart of his loving father; he always made it a point to confer with George when in doubt.

Michael would be fourteen in June, and he was no longer a child. He was the quickest to take to the idea of growing up after their return from Neverland, although he went about it in the most undesirable manner. He spent less and less time with John and Wendy and more and more time with his friends from school. It got to the point where Mary would make him take Nana with him wherever he went, as he was mischievous and loved trouble.

"He takes after my father," George said as he and Mary lay in bed together after another long day. "We'll be lucky if he even finishes school, let alone university." Mary held George tightly, she knew what he said was true. Soon Michael found a way to lose Nana when she gave chase. He was the only child spanked in the Darling residence by both parents after the three had returned home from Neverland, and it seemed to be a frequent occurrence bound for his teenage years.

Now a tenacious young man of almost fourteen, with a mind of his own, his heart mysteriously drifted to place where he could not be reached by his parents or siblings. His downward spiral, so young in life, to one of crime and a multitude of offenses ended abruptly and unexpectedly. George inquired of his whereabouts, Michael having missed dinner and returned home well after dark. Michael, rebellious and stubborn, refused to answer his father after strolling into the house as if he owned it. When he passed his mother and she demanded Michael respond, under his breath, so only Mary could hear, he called his mother a "whore."

Mary gasped aloud. She was shocked by his cruel remark, and her face reflected her alarm as she began to cry. George went to her and asked of his second-son's comment. She did not have to repeat it, for Michael said it again loud and clear, and added, "My mother's a whore and my father's perverted. I know all about you two. Who are you to make me answer your stupid questions and follow your stupid rules? It's like filthy rotten criminals running the prison, this house!" His voice was squeaky, but his tone was pure malice and disgust.

George grabbed Michael by his throat and slammed him hard in the wall. "George don't please..." Mary pled.

George, a fully developed man, turned his piercing blue eyes full of anger toward his own son. And Michael who wanted to be the brave man in the war of wills, now faltered and began to weep. George lifted his fist and pulled it back. As hard as he could, he sent it forward and into the wall beside Michael's head. It broke clear through the wallpaper and plaster, and when George removed his hand it was already scraped and bloody. Mary gasped again, as did Wendy who was watching from the top of the stairs. Michael fell into a ball on the floor when his father released him.

George was never good in confrontations. His usual reaction would be to get sick and collapse, out of breath. But tonight, he was a changed man. He stepped back from his son and yanked him to his feet. With his bloody fist in Michael's face, he used a voice as altered as his disposition, one never heard before in the Darling home. Sounding harsh and formidable, he said, "If I would have hit you, I would have killed you, and believe me when I tell you, that was nearly my intention. That hole should have been in your chest where I ripped your out heart, and not in my wall. Whatever you are trying to accomplish by insulting me and your mother stops RIGHT NOW! You are MY SON, you live in MY HOUSE, and you live under MY RULES! WHO ARE YOU TO QUESTION ME? I gave you the life you live FOR FREE ON A SILVER PLATTER! I HAVE NEVER ASKED YOU DO A SINGLE THING FOR ALL THE LUXURIES THAT YOU TAKE FOR GRANTED! We are fair parents, we let you have our love and devotion, along with whatever you truly desire. Most of all, we trusted you. BUT NO MORE! You are forthwith stripped of all your privileges. You will wake in the morning and go to school. You will come straight home from school and you will do all of your schoolwork at the kitchen table. You will eat supper with this family and then you will go to your room and go to bed, AND NOTHING ELSE. If you think that after the horrors your mother went through bringing you into this world, I will let you speak against her, you have ANOTHER. THINK. COMING." He spaced his words to make sure they were completely understood.

"If your mother, whom you feel experienced enough in life to call a whore, was not standing here, I would wrap my hands around your neck and squeeze all the breath from your body. It is by her good graces and hers alone that you are alive -- again. We are far from criminals and this house is far from a prison, but if you want to -- really truly want to know what it is to reside in one, that my son, can be arranged."

When Michael tried to stutter his excuses, George interrupted in the same severe voice, "Did I tell you to speak? I asked politely for an explanation when you came home, but you did not think I was worthy of one. Apparently you think me perverted. Of course, no one complains when I put FOOD ON THE TABLE, OR CLOTHES ON YOUR BACK OR MONEY IN YOUR POCKET! As long as you get what you want when you want it, it does not matter that your parents are perverted and immoral, who have lived lives that others possibly find offensive. Contrarily, the moment you are made to explain your whereabouts so that we are not sick with worry, THEN and only THEN do the circumstances of your conception come into question. I have always found it so interesting that those who know nothing of the truth are the ones who always seem to sit in judgment of others. There is a saying, Michael, that people who live in glass houses should not throw stones. Do you know what that means? That means people who have done far worse than your parents are the ones who call me perverted and your mother a whore. I never thought that I would ever say this about any of my children, but..." George choked on his next words, still glaring at Michael.

When his voice returned, it had lost its hostility, sounding normal. He too had tears in his eyes. He held Michael's face with both hands and appealed to his youngest, "Please, dear Michael, don't ever make me say it about you."

Michael was still crying, and whimpered, "Say what, Father?"

"That you were a mistake. That I wished you had never been born. That your mother and I would have better off without ever having you." George released him again and slowly walked upstairs.

Wendy met him at the top and hugged him. He kissed her forehead and moved beyond to John, who was awkward and uncomfortable, just like his father would be in same situation. Doing what he thought best, he shook his father's hand.

Michael stayed on the bottom step and looked to his mother for comfort. He had broken her heart in several different places, but he was still her precious baby. She went to him, and, as he fell into her embrace, he asked, "Do you think I was a mistake, Mother?"

"Do you know what it is to think of you as a mistake, Michael? It would mean that you being born were an error in good judgment, something that if we had to do again, we would have thought better of and done differently. Neither your father nor I want to ever believe that, given the chance to do it over again, the only thing we would change in our entire life is having you. You are my baby Michael, my precious baby, and I almost died having you. I loved you before you were born I would have died to give you life, I would have. I still would die for you Michael. We went through a lot when you were born, your father, although he would never admit it, suffered the most. It would be easier to convince him now that you were a misstep in life then I. And that is a very dangerous position to be put in, I promised to forsake all others for him, even you, I would if I had to. He is the man you should endeavor to become, but I fear you have found another more to your taste to model yourself after. At fourteen, you are already well on the way to becoming the man you will be as an adult. Go no further down this pathway, Michael. Turn back from these rebellions and come home to us. For once you are lost to your father and in manhood, not even I will be able find you." Mary kissed his forehead and held onto her lost boy even tighter.

Michael felt sick to his stomach. He'd released his bladder from fear when George punched a hole in the wall next to his head, and began to reek of it. Mary nudged his shoulder up the stairs to bath and change for bed.

But before he made it up the first step, Grandpa Joe walked into the stairway and summoned Michael forward. Michael stood before his grandfather with his head lowered. "If this house is your father's castle, then tonight I am the executioner." Grandpa Joe, silent with a blank expression told Michael to raise his face. He did, and Grandpa Joe cracked him across the cheek with his open hand. "That is the punishment for calling my only daughter a whore." When Michael regained his feet, Grandpa Joe cracked him across the opposite cheek in the same manner. "That is the punishment for calling your father, a man I consider my own son, perverted."

Grandpa Joe stepped back and pushed back Michael down on the stairs. "You should be ashamed of yourself for your actions, Michael Darling. My only daughter, your mother, almost died giving birth to you. TO ALL OF YOU! She bled buckets of blood and your father cried an ocean of tears while you rested comfortably in your cribs asleep. Just because you are unaware of the sacrifice does not mean they were not made!" Grandpa Joe shouted up the stairs to John and Wendy who were still watching.

"Your mother and father truly love one another unlike any other I have ever seen, and you all should consider yourselves very fortunate to be born into their house. If you all knew the anguish, misery and despair your parents went through, it would be you doing the reproach to anyone who dare say a whisper of impropriety about them. It is those gossipmongers who should have their hearts ripped from their chest. What did your friends tell you, Michael? That your father got your mother in the wrong way before they were married?"

Mary clutched her father's arm. "Oh, Father, please don't tell them. Not this way."

"Why should he not know? They all should know. Do you want your children thinking you are a whore for taking to bed with someone that was not yet your husband?" Wendy slipped down in shock on her knees. John stood behind her and held her shoulders. They both wept unrestrained, as did Michael, whose head was still bowed, frightened for his life. "Do you want your children thinking their father is perverted? who could not keep it in his pants? Is that what you were told, Michael?"

Michael nodded his head in assent. "They made fun of me," he mumbled, humiliated.

"Yes, your mother and father consummated before they were married. Yes, your mother carried Wendy hidden in her white wedding dress when she wed your father. But did they tell you the circumstances that put them in that bad way? Did they tell you that your mother was engaged to your father and her ill-advised and selfish father, made her break her engagement over finances? Almost made her marry a man she didn't love because they wanted a wealthy son-in-law? Not once, not twice, but three times? Did they tell you how your father saved your mother, more times than I can count or imagine?

"Your father rescued your mother like a princess trapped in a tower on the very day she was to marry the wrong man. They ran away together, that's all true. And when your mother returned for my blessing, did they tell you how I locked her away in a room for three months for no other reason than that she loved your father?

"Did they tell you how I planned to send her away and make her leave her baby in an orphanage? How your sister was the Wendy that almost wasn't? I stood in this very spot, while your mother was locked away in the room your parents now share, and threatened your father's life if he ever came within a mile of my daughter? How I said I would slash his throat from ear to ear? I told him if he tried to rescue your mother and their unborn child from my decided fate that I would hunt them down and murder them all?

"Do you know what your father told me? He told me to do my worst, because if I ever even attempted to harm his wife and any of their children, I would be the one rotting in the ground in an unmarked grave.

"I was the one who threw your mother, my only child, out into the streets without even the clothes on her back. I made sure your father was disowned and ridiculed by his family. Did anyone tell you that? No, of course they didn't. They said your father had to marry your mother, that I held pistol to his back as he stood at the altar saying his vows. They told you that he only wanted to get into your mother's bloomers and that, when he found out what he created, he tried to join the army or some such nonsense, just to get away from his responsibilities.

"You see, Michael; there is not one bit of gossip you can repeat to me that I have not already heard about your parents, because at one time or another, the same words were repeated by me. Let's see," Grandpa Joe put his finger on his chin and thought about every rumor circulated around London, the torrid tales of Mary and George long forgotten. "There was the one about all the other illegitimate children your father has, how he was a uncontrollably sick deviant who would lie with anyone who would let him. I believe one story had your father defiling your mother in park in broad daylight, and even though she was supposedly being raped on bench, enjoyed it just as much as he did. There was another one about your mother, who, when her parents disinherited her, became a prostitute as your father, the despoiler, rented out his wife to all his business associates to make ends meet. I believe that story even claimed your father enjoyed watching your mother with other men -- many other men at the same time as I recall.

"There is gossip of your father being a fairy, and not like the ones in Wendy's stories. There is gossip of your mother having many lovers before and after your father. In those tall tales, your mother had bastard children that your father sold to rich couples who were childless. So not only did he sell your mother's body, but also her babies.

"But the worst one, the one that I always found the most foul and unholy, was the one that said that your father kept your mother chained to their bed with no clothes on so that he could do whatever he wanted to her at his leisure, and when she would refuse or be slightest bit unwilling he would starve her and beat her, all this going on with their little baby watching from the crib beside their bed."

Mary had heard cruel rumors, but none as offensive at that, and never that specific one in particular. She knelt on the floor and held her hand to her mouth, trying to make her lungs work. She gasped as tears fell from her eyes, she could not make any sound come from her, but when she finally did she wailed in agony, as the final pieces of her heart were broken. Wendy flew down the stairs to her mother, and as she embraced Mary, she felt the terrible horror her mother had endured throughout her life. Grandpa Joe never let his gaze slip from Michael. He held it steadfast, and with Mary weeping aloud, he continued.

"Her own mother repeated that awful and vile rumor about your father and mother. She heard it at the market in passing by someone who didn't realize who she was. I already knew of Wendy's birth, but still had not made my peace with your parents. I was so enraged when I was told and so angry with your parents for all that had been done, that I had forgotten that all gossip and rumors are lies. Lies only said to be hurtful and harm those undeserving of such a fate. But, unknown to me, I had begun to believe the lies, things that should have been laughed at and corrected as untruths had etched their way into my soul.

"Your Grandmother Elizabeth was a wise woman, a saint on Earth. She didn't believe that story for one moment, but still she knew that I would. She knew that visiting my daughter's home would teach me the final lesson of the heart. It worked, for as sure as I am standing here now, I was sure that your father had done just that to your mother -- chained her to their bed and molested her repeatedly in the most vile ways possible, with my granddaughter watching. I saw her crying for mercy like she does now because of you, and Wendy pleading for her father to stop."

Grandpa Joe stepped back and leaned against the doorway. Now he looked at Mary. "That night I loaded my pistol, and I went to your home with all intentions of killing your George. I wanted to save you from your husband. I had it all planned. He would open the door when I knocked, and I would put one bullet in his head. But I didn't find you at that home, for George had moved you to a better place, the best he could afford on his meager salary and savings.

"The undertaker who owned the business in the basement told me that the second George had enough money, he made a down payment on tiny cottage away from that seedy part of London. George couldn't wait to give you a better life, the life you deserved, a home that was worthy of you. He told me of all the things you had accomplished working together since you were married. How hard George worked for his family, and how you, Mary, made a joyful home for him and your baby in a dank one-room flat with no hot water. He told me how happy you were, how in spite of everything done to you both, you were still very much in love. He told me that only death would part you and George, and he wasn't even sure that would be true, for God has a special place in heaven for couples bonded with the same heart and soul." Tears now slipped down Grandpa Joe's face, and still he continued.

"I told him of the rumor, and he told me if I ever repeated it to George, I would be the one with a bullet it my head. Not only would he not tell me my granddaughter's name, he wouldn't even tell me where you had moved, for fear that I, your father, would ruin everything else still left in your lives. I can hear his last words to me as if they spoken only a moment ago, 'Let them live their happily-ever-after, Mr. Baker, for they have earned it.' I had to send messengers all over London to find your parents, and it was worth every penny, for they returned and we made our peace."

Grandpa Joe looked up the staircase, John stood at the top, and so much like his father George, and he became Mr. Baker's new focal point "I remembered that truth the first night I saw your mother again, swollen in the waist with you, John. Your father wanted to marry your mother more than anything in he world, no matter what the cost and she felt the same. He saved your mother from that other man. They made love and created a perfect baby, three perfect babies. You see, children, they might not have had their parent's blessing or the wedding rings that make it proper in most eyes, but they had God watching down on them, and if He didn't feel their act was of the purest and most undying love, then Wendy would not be sitting there holding her mother, and Michael would not be kneeling here, nor John standing at the top of the stairs. God gave his approval, and that was good enough for me and it should be good enough for all of you.

"You want the truth? Your father and mother made love for the first time together, in a bed, in a private manner unseen by prying eyes. They were not married in the eyes of the law, but to each other by God, they were as much husband and wife as they are still today. Your mother was unknown to any man, and your father unknown to any other woman that first time with one another. There were no others before nor have there been after, as far as I know. There were no bastard children, nor perversion of any kind, nor prostitution. Your father had to work three jobs to make ends meet, he went hungry and without sleep for days at a time for all you. Your mother sold her hair and her jewelry, your father sold his pocket watch and chain, his dress shoes, and his coin collection so they could live, keep Wendy and have another baby. Your parents were constantly attacked by their families, who wanted nothing more than to prove themselves right. Your parents fought back tooth and nail to survive. They are married for eighteen years now and still love each other more and more everyday. Those solemn vows they took even before their wedding day still hold them. They have loved each other through sickness and health, for richer for poorer, they love, honor and obey each other all the days of their lives. They are brave and strong people who loved beyond love and share that love with their children, their family and their friends. Those who speak ill of them are jealous, they are green-eyed with envy, because you children are the products of two people who walked through hell and the fire within to find and save the other."

Grandpa Joe turned and without another word returned to the parlor.

Mary took Michael upstairs and left him in the bathroom. He handed her his soiled clothes and she put them in a laundry tub to soak.

The house was once again filled with silence. Ghosts breezed past one another in the darkened halls with nothing to say. More so, not knowing what to say next. Wendy went to her room, and so did John. Both were covered with their blankets and cried themselves to sleep before their bedtimes. George did not come out of his room, even when Mary assured him all the children were in bed. Michael bathed and scurried to the nursery he shared with John without making a peep. Mary tried to set the night's events out of her mind, but found they insisted on being heard.

"Why did you tell them all of that?" Mary asked her father, who was too upset to cry or do anything else but sit on the sofa.

Grandpa Joe puffed on his pipe and responded, "If Michael heard those rumors, that means they are still spoken in certain circles. And if they are still spreading, then John and Wendy have already heard them." He retired to the privacy of his room without looking at his daughter who sat wringing her hands on the sofa.


	27. Chapter 27 Uninvited Guests

Rated R - Sex

My Darling Love

Chapter 27 – Uninvited Guests

"_In order to be walked on, you have to be lying down."_

_-Brian Weir_

Mary believed she was about to go insane and was sure she only needed one more incident to push herself over the edge and it came.

Late that very same evening, there came a quiet tapping at her back door. Mary went, curious of who would be calling, and stranger still, who would be calling at the backdoor. She unlatched the lock and found Margaret Davis standing before her with a look of utter panic on her face. "Mrs. Darling..." Margaret managed before she broke into a flood of tears.

Since the day that Aunt Millicent took Margaret, Mary had seen them nearly every day for the purpose of Millicent being able to show off the small talk of the proper young lady she had raised. With more money than the Darling family could have ever contributed, Margaret was sent to the finest of schools. She was already eighteen, and Millicent held a grand coming-out party to introduce Margaret to polite society.

George and Mary ("poor relations," as Aunt Millicent called them) were on the guest list, but did not attend because their children were not welcome. "You understand, Mary and George, there will be only the finest of London society there, and your children, well, I hope you understand, they are just not ... well ... the finest of London society," Aunt Millicent mumbled in the parlor, after enjoying another delicious meal provided by Mr. George Darling, again uninvited.

Mary and George said nothing; Grandpa Joe booted his sister from the house without her coat.

So there Margaret stood, with a terrified look on her face, her head bobbing, with tears raining down her face, and eyes that pleaded to gain access. "Oh dear, what have we here?" Mary began, and she directed Margaret into the house.

Margaret took a seat at Mary's kitchen table, and then stood suddenly to remove her coat. Margaret sat back down quickly and stared wide-eyed and full of fear at Mary.

"I didn't know where else to go," Margaret finally blurted. "You have to hide me here! YOU HAVE TO!" Margaret screamed.

Now Mary, wide-eyed, still standing, watched the innocent girl before her look about the room like a mouse about to be pounced on by a cat. "Please say you will hide me, if she finds me, she'll kill me, she told me she would. I know she will, she told me that she spent loads of money making sure I marry the right gentleman, and if I spoil her plans she will see me dead, she will bury my body somewhere and no one will ever find me. Please...!"

"Who told you they would kill you?" Mary across from Margaret and held her hands.

"Millicent," Margaret whispered, still looking about to see if anyone was listening.

"I don't understand, dear, your mother is here every single day as has mentioned nothing of killing you. Whatever is going on between the two of you, you will have to tell me. I'm sure whatever it is, it's certainly not as bad as you fear," Mary offered sympathetically.

"She's not my mother..." Margaret mumbled first and then began to rage, "He told me if I loved him, I would. But I don't love him; I just wanted him to leave me alone. I just did it so he would leave me alone. He left me alone, Mrs. Darling, and then he left me with this. He left me with this!" As Margaret choked through her weeping, she pushed back her chair and showed Mary her rounding belly. Mary gasped with understanding, squeezing the girl's hands. "I tried to get rid of it, I even threw myself down the stairs, but I can't get rid of it. I haven't eaten in days. I was hoping to starve it out. It just won't go away, I just want it to go away. And Millicent watches my monthlies and when she notices that I stopped having them she will know. I ran into the pointed end of my nightstands, I bathed in ice cold water and then in boiling hot water, I fastened my corset as tightly as it will go, and I was trying to hide it, so maybe it would go away..." Mary hushed Margaret, not wanting to hear anymore, but Margaret continued.

"Millicent said that your husband got you in a bad way and your father made him marry you. Millicent said that Mr. Darling spoiled you against your will, and that you felt sorry for him and that's why you say you love him when really you don't. I don't want to marry him. I don't have a father that will make him marry me anymore, so I thought I would be safe. But I know Millicent will make me marry someone, and I know he'll be worse, because he will know the baby isn't his and he'll punish me. He told me after she finds out who he is; she will put me out on the streets. He wanted me to run away with him tonight, but I wouldn't." Margaret now removed her scarf and there, on her neck, were fresh bruises, handprints wrapped around. "He did this to me when I told him I wouldn't run away with him and do what he wants anymore."

Margaret was scrawny for age, petite in size. Whatever hells she went through as a small child left its evidence on her face and body. Her hair was red like her mother before her, although instead of Penny's thick wavy locks, Margaret's hair was thinned and straight like her father's. She was very skinny and still flat as a board, no ample bosom or bum. Millicent had bragged of Margaret's good looks, but as Mary gazed upon her face she saw no notable beauty. If anything Margaret had nothing more than a feminine version of her father's features. Still sitting across from Margaret, James Shipman was whom Mary saw staring back.

"Dearest child, we are far from the same. I married the man I loved and no one forced him to marry me. Not my father, not your mother. I'm sorry, I meant Millicent, she is not your mother, you call her Millicent. With that being said, he never forced himself on me either. Now this is quite shocking, you understand, I know you've been away at school, but I was unaware you were being courted by anyone. Your mother swears you're as pure as new snow. Who is this young man?"

Mary was not sure what she should do. Her first thought was to call the constable, but in the back of her mind, she knew her Aunt Millicent would want to handle the situation herself. Margaret refused to identify the father of her child, and left Mary with no other choice. "I'll make you some tea dear, take your rest at the table, dear, and I will right back."

Mary made the tea and went to her bedroom. She opened the locked door and found George sitting on their bed staring out the window. "George," she said, and, when he looked at her, she continued. "Margaret Davis is downstairs and you are not going to believe this."

Mary told him all she said and he watched, taken aback by the news. When Mary inquired what they should do, George responded, "Let's talk with Grandpa Joe." Mary called him, and he entered their room. Never having been there before, he glanced about before taking a seat on the chair nearest the window, while Mary again recounted the story of Margaret, the nameless man, and Aunt Millicent.

"Impossible," Grandpa Joe retorted first. "Absolutely impossible." The second comment he made: "She can't stay here, bad influence on Wendy." His third remark he made shaking his head: "It's Millicent's fault. She dotes on that girl, spoils her rotten. Who knows what's true and what's not? I know you, Mary Elizabeth, you're thinking that's Penny sitting downstairs, crying in her tea, but its not. I'm afraid she's got more of her father's wicked spirit in her. But that's neither here nor there. My feelings on the situation more to the point, she got herself in trouble being wayward with the kind of boy Millicent wouldn't approve of, and doesn't want to lose the golden goose."

Mary knew it was not Penny downstairs and she reiterated that fact with George nodding in agreement. "What should we do?" Mary asked.

"I think you both should talk to your children about those intimate matters. I unlocked the door for that conversation tonight, now you must open it and enter through it with them. Best not to make the same mistakes your parents did by waiting until it is too late. I'll handle Margaret and Millicent."

The three of them went downstairs to the kitchen and found it empty. She had fled their house and took George's wallet and pocket watch with her. "Call the constable, I'll go see Millicent," Grandpa Joe said, putting on his coat and hat.

George called the constable, "She stole the items out of my coat pocket. Only a few shillings, I just got a haircut today and paid the grocer my account in full. But the pocket watch was a gift from my wife, and I would like it returned," he told the copper as he made his report.

"This girl has been missing for over a week now. Her mother's worried sick. She stops by the station three times a day asking if we've heard anything, asking us not to spread gossip. Women and their pretty daughters who want to marry well, shame," the constable shook his head as he tipped his hat and went on his way.

Mary and George looked to one another, as they often did in times like these; they smiled encouragingly and embraced, just happy to have a strong partner in each other, they met in a kiss.

"Intimate matters, whatever will you tell Wendy?" George asked as he walked up the stairs behind Mary.

She didn't answer him until she was safely inside their bedchamber. "I guess it depends on how well you perform tonight, my darling love."

While George kissed Mary's neck as he unbuttoned her blouse, she wondered what she would tell Wendy of those secret details her daughter would need to know about being a woman. He kissed down her neck and back to her mouth. He eased his lips gently across hers, and to her earlobe. Down her face to her collarbone and back up to her mouth he greeted her lips in a passionate kiss. He pushed her blouse gently off, moving his check and nose against the sensitive skin along her shoulders; he inhaled her perfume and whispered with heated breath in her ear, "I have always loved your scent, Mary, still the same after all these years."

Mary moved her head to accommodate his lips that were once again in motion, kissing and licking her neck and up her throat. "Shall I undress now?" Mary asked in a mocking tone.

"May I watch?" George answered, not missing an inch of her exposed skin with his mouth.

"Yes George, watch me."

Mary rose from the bed where they sat and unfastened her skirt. It fell from her, and as George stared at the wonder before him, Mary undid the fastenings of her undergarments and slowly removed them. To tease him, she lifted one leg at a time on the bed, little by little rolling down her stockings from the length of her thigh to her ankle and finally off her pretty toes. The last thing to be stripped was her hair: she detached the clip that held her twist in place and let her long locks fall down her back. Mary's hair grew straight as an arrow, but, being wrapped up all day, it curled in flowing waves at night when she set it free.

"You are truly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, Mary," George said amorously. The scar of Michael's birth was still there on her abdomen, but the years had softened and faded the color. But that did not matter to George, for Mary was perfect in every way. She stood before him as bare as the day she was born. He rose from the bed and knelt before her. "Mary Elizabeth Baker, would you marry me?" he asked in as serious a tone as if it were truly a formal proposal she should have received in the company of others.

"George, don't be foolish."

He clutched both her hands in his and watched her, "No you have to answer me. Please, please say yes."

"Yes, George. I will marry you." She smiled, flattered by his gesture. "I will marry you as soon as you make love to me." On his knees, he removed his tie and shirt. As he rose he pulled off his pants and underwear, leaving his socks, which made Mary giggle. He kissed his wife and lifted her up and over to the bed. "I want you now, George. It has been forever and a day since we've last," Mary pled, but George did not oblige.

"The children are asleep, your father is not home, Mary, why are you in such a rush?"

Mary groaned her delight as he ran his tongue up her neck and met her lips once more. He kissed down her neck and to her breasts, licking and tasting her nipples keeping his eyes on her as he went. George teased her, moving on top of her, and just as she was sure of his penetration, he would slide back down and caress her body with his hands and explore her more with his mouth.

"Please, I can not wait any longer!" Mary beseeched him, panting. George gazed up at his wife and shook his head. He ran his tongue down her stomach to the wetness that lubricated her opening. In only moments, George had Mary clutching the bed sheets and biting her tongue so hard she tasted blood to keep from crying aloud.

Finally, when she could bear it no longer, she pushed him forcefully from her. He fell backwards onto the floor, unaccustomed to her aggressiveness. Mary sprang off the bed, and before George could sit up, she mounted him and rammed herself down onto his member.

Now she was in control and he was the one pleading. And just as he had, she too teased, and only gave a little of herself at a time. Mary's movements were slow and pleasing, then hard and quick that left George gasping for air. When she felt his release near, she stopped all together and made him wait, shaking her finger at him taunting, "Why the rush, George?" She ran her nails down his chest, leaving red marks on her husband's skin, which made him bite his lip. "You must experience a little pain for all the pleasure I am about to give you," she whispered while she started riding him again.

"And what of your pain, Mary?" he asked, as he flipped her on her back and began to rut vigorously into her while holding her arms above her head.

Mary sank her teeth into his neck fiercely and George released her arms. "Harder, George, faster. I want to feel every inch of you inside of me," she panted to him and he indulged. As he did, Mary continued to scratch and clutch at his back. Suddenly George ceased his movements and smoothly removed himself from Mary. He stood and extended his member to her open wanting mouth, "It's so sweet, George, like honey..." Mary purred as he gushed into her mouth and over her lips, which she licked before enveloping his length back into her mouth, sucking him clean. He grinned in complete satisfaction, as Mary tasted her fingertips, making sure not one drop of him went to waste.

He gave her his hand to her to help her up. "It's been months for us, Mary," he said.

She nodded. "I know, George, I'm sorry to keep you waiting." Together they walked to their bed and lay down, both of their backs now uncomfortable -- George's stung from the scraping of Mary's nails, Mary's ached from the rug abrasions caused by George's powerful thrusting.

What would Mary tell Wendy of lovemaking? Scenes such as this one grew from years of togetherness, understanding the other's wants and how they want it. Each time, it could be different, or each time it could be the same, but the contentment and fulfillment was always there, nonetheless.

But on this occasion Mary had not reached completion, so there was disappointment and an apology. "I tried to hold myself for you, but I just could not concentrate enough to stop. I'm sorry, Mary." George was sincere and bothered, he hated to walk in heaven and leave Mary in the clouds below. Maybe that is what being a woman is all about; knowing that even through the most valiant efforts, Prince Charming will not always be able to save the day.

At least not the first time, and that is what second chances are for. Only an hour later, George made love to Mary again. Different in every way; it was tender and adoring with lingering passion and Mary's completion not only in the end but also at the start as well. Lovers should be equal in their sharing; therefore George began where Mary had left off with a wanting and very willing mouth. They slept embraced in one another's arms, wrapped up tight in their blanket. It had been a long time since they were last together, and Mary had unwittingly forgotten the times where everything they did in life, they did together, and if not together, then for the other. This is what Mary would tell Wendy -- about the intimate relationship of two people madly in love who were lucky enough to meet and marry.

But not tonight, for this night belonged to George, and at least for tonight, for Mary there was no other.

Grandpa Joe returned very late, well past midnight. He wanted to talk with George and Mary, but seeing the house quiet and no light coming from under their door, he decided it could wait until morning. He was the first one awake, at first light, and waited in the kitchen for Mary to come down. She did, humming happily to herself, and smiled at her father when he looked up to greet her.

Whatever happy memories she had of the previous night were pushed from her mind with Grandpa Joe's glum expression. Wasting no time in giving the details, he began.

"Margaret went missing a week ago. Millicent suspected something foul, but was afraid to tell anyone out of fear of the gossip." He rolled his eyes heavenward, and took a moment to shake his head. "Apparently, she's been quite rebellious as of late, being tired of the prison my sister keeps her locked in." Now he chuckled, for Michael said only yesterday the Darling residence was a prison. "Margaret has already run away several times from that expensive boarding school she's been sent to. Millie's found loads of money missing from her accounts and plenty of her other costly items in the pawnshop. Margaret denies it all, but like I said myself last night, she's got too much of her father's blood in her to be anything worth saving. And Millicent, intent on being the blessed savior herself, has been doing everything she can to make sure that a repeat of what you did with George would never happen to Margaret."

"Oh really, and what did I do with George?" Mary asked with her hands on her hips, affronted and annoyed that old scandals never seemed to be forgotten.

"Mary Elizabeth, you know that's water under the bridge with me, but your Aunt Millicent..." Grandpa Joe motioned for Mary to sit and she did.

"Look, Mary Elizabeth, don't lie to me, I hear the way you and George bicker back and forth over Wendy and those rumors he's been hearing at work. I know we all don't believe them, but Millicent does and my sister is a creature of competition. She wants Margaret to be a superior young lady who marries better than Wendy and has a far more impressive and desirable lifestyle. She's jealous that after all your sins -- and that's what she called them, not me -- Wendy is so beautiful and well behaved with not a scuff on her reputation, even after what's been said about her, when she should by all rights have the devil in her and be called a girl of easy virtue."

Now Mary rolled her eyes heavenward, and shook her head to the ceiling. "I asked Wendy about those rumors myself, and she said there are girls at her school who do not like her that started them to be mean." Mary clasped her hands in front of her on the table. "Girls that age can be so catty and jealous, Wendy said a boy liked her, well a few boys, but she is not ready to be courted. Apparently, one of these girls also likes one of those boys and that is why she spread the gossip, because that boy would not even look at her, because he likes Wendy. All very childish, if you ask me. I don't even know why I asked her about that silly rubbish. There is no way Wendy would bed all those different boys, it's just not possible. Wherever would she get that idea first of all, she still a young girl! She has no suitors, no one comes to call on her, and she doesn't even want to be courted. All she wants to do is sit in her room and write her stories and draw her pictures. And aside from that, Father, I lay down for George only twice--"

Mary stopped speaking and shook her head, for that was not something she wanted to share with her father, but he only chuckled and said, "You lay down for George twice and he put a baby in you, yes, Mary Elizabeth, I'm not stupid or senile for that matter, and that much I remember. And your thinking is, if you never talked to Wendy and never told her how not to get a baby from a boy, she would already have one with the way the gossip about her is spread."

"Exactly," Mary answered, offering her father an innocent grin with her hands folded under her chin.

"Well, Millicent has no idea of Margaret's condition, and I did not feel I was the one who needed to tell her. All she knows is that there is a man hired at the school under the title of caretaker, and from what Margaret's professors suppose, the two are quite fond of one another. Anyway, he denies anything went on between them, as he is considerably older than Margaret. He has been arrested and charged with her abduction, nonetheless, the poor bastard." Grandpa Joe was still shaking his head. "We should be thankful that it is not Wendy who has encountered these troubles. I'd hate to have to go through all that if I were a young girl. But I feel sorry for Millie, too, the cage she keeps that girl in, and her doing it because she felt it was what was best for her. And she goes and runs away... I hope that doesn't happen in this house again."

"Wendy and the boys ran away once, and once is plenty enough," Mary commented as George came in dressed for work. He went to the table and sat in the chair Mary had just vacated.

"Mary, my breakfast," he commanded with no smile. George's angry expression stunned Mary and Grandpa Joe. She turned to get a better look at his face, and he glared up to her and answered her quizzical stare. "Mary, my breakfast, NOW." She turned on her heel and began to shift about and gather up the food to be prepared. "You don't even have anything ready yet? What have you been doing all morning? Oh never mind, I'll get something on the way to work. I'm already late..." George's tone was pure frustration and he quickly rose without another word and stormed out the front door.

"What was that all about? Did you two have words last night after I left?" Grandpa Joe also stood to watch George's departure. Mary was holding the eggs in one hand and fresh bacon in the other, concerned at her husband's odd disposition she replied, "Quite the contrary, we had a lovely evening together after the house was asleep."

Before she could venture a guess at George's aberrations, the children entered dressed and ready for school. Wendy, John and Michael sat around the table in silence. Grandpa Joe and Mary watched the children eat in silence, all having the strangest expressions, not looking at the other, only to their plates.

"Alright children, who wants to tell me what's going on?" Mary finally demanded.

"Is father still angry with us mother?" Wendy asked, not making eye contact, still looking at her plate.

"Your father was not angry with you Wendy, he was angry with Michael." As Mary answered, she held Michael by his shoulders from behind as he now dipped his head so low his face touched the table. "But that has passed, and now shall begin anew in this house. Did your father say something to you this morning?"

John looked up and around at his siblings, and with Wendy's nod, he spoke, "Last night after dinner, a man rang the bell, he had found a letter for father he forgot to deliver to him earlier in the day. I accepted it on father's behalf, but with all that happened with Michael, I forgot to give it to him until this morning. I found it in my coat pocket and apologized for my absent mindedness. He did not seem angry until he read it, then he told me I was never allowed to answer the bell again."

Mary gave her father a distressed look of confusion that he returned. "Who was it from?" she asked, her voice quivering.

John handed his mother the envelope, George had discarded it in his haste to read the letter contained within. It was sent to the Darling Home, number fourteen, but there was no name listed as sender, only listing an elegant hotel in London, where only the wealthiest stayed when in town, given as its point of origin. Mary showed her father, and his expression changed to one of revelation, as if something he had been wondering about finally made sense.

"I think I shall inquire at the hotel for the sender of this letter. It may be important," Mary offered, removing the envelope from her father's hands.

"No, Mary Elizabeth, let me do that for you." Her father rose and extended his hand to his daughter with the expectation of her handing it over without question.

"No, really Father, it's alright, I have to go out this morning, the least I can do for George is offer my apologizes to the sender for his delay in answering the call last night."

"What if it is a business associate of George's?" Grandpa Joe inquired.

Mary replied, "Well, Father, who else would it be?" Grandpa Joe sat back down at his chair and opened his morning paper.

The children stared at their mother and grandfather, feeling confused and a nuisance, as if their presence alone was preventing the two adults from speaking freely. "Let's go to school or we will be late." Wendy rose with her brothers and took off through the back door without breakfast.

The moment the children left the house, Grandpa Joe got up and stood beside Mary, who was beginning the laundry. The envelope was stuffed into her apron pocket, and her father, the man of the house when George was off to work, spoke, "I think Peter maybe in town visiting. I will not have you go to that hotel by yourself unescorted, so if you want to see whatever it is he wants, I, as your father, am going with you."

His voice was stern, but Mary was oblivious to his apprehension. She only replied, "I don't think Peter is in town, why would he come? George swore he would never speak to him again. Why would I doubt his word? I was only troubled that the colleague George stays late with on Tuesdays at the bank was upset he was unable to stay last night. After all, last night was Tuesday."

Mary handed her father the washbasin she had just filled and he carried to the counter she did the washing on and he questioned, "Do you want to tell me something, Mary Elizabeth?"

Mary turned her head to her father and offered the same innocent grin he had seen only a few minutes before. "No, is there something you want to tell me?"

Grandpa Joe began scrubbing the dishtowels on the washboard and casually replied, "No, Mary Elizabeth."

They did the few items of laundry in silence, Mary then taking her leave to go to the backyard to hang the items on the line to dry. Grandpa Joe followed her to clothesline and put on his coat, "I'm going out for walk, Mary Elizabeth. I'll be back soon." Mary did not respond, although she wave good-bye with her back turned to him as she worked.


	28. Chapter 28 An Affair to Remember

Rated R: Sexual Situations

My Darling Love

Chapter 28 – An Affair to Remember

"_A mistress is simply something between a mister and a mattress."_

_- Jim Backus_

It was by far the most posh hotel in London, and only the wealthiest stayed there. So it was no surprise to find Mr. Peter Darling checked in. What was surprising to find was George with his pants off when Grandpa Joe came knocking at Mr. Peter Darling's room.

Now Grandpa Joe was a man of sixty-five, and he had seen many things in his day, but he would have bet his life and his savings that the one scene that he would never witness would be that of his son-in-law and another woman in the interrupted throes of passion. Especially since he had only reprimanded not only his grandchildren but also himself for thinking thus the day before.

And there was George, getting dressed quickly upon hearing Grandpa Joe's voice, and the young lady answering the door in nothing more than a silky see-through sheath. "I was just wondering, is Peter around? We are old friends," was all Grandpa Joe got out before looking past the pretty young thing, not more than twenty, and seeing his son-in-law dart up from the bed to the chair to hastily put on his trousers that Mary had just ironed the night before.

"No, he is out with my aunt. Would you like to leave a note for him? He will be back later in the day," she offered, giving George's father-in-law a lurid smile, licking her lips.

"No, that's fine. Sorry to disturb you and your... gentleman friend."

If George had not been a man of forty-two, who worked so his wife didn't have to, put food on the table for everyone in his home, clothed them, and gave them all an allowance, Grandpa Joe would have dragged George home by his ear. But George was that man. So therefore, Grandpa Joe said nothing and turned and left without demanding an explanation.

When Grandpa Joe returned home, and Mary inquired after his morning walk, Grandpa Joe took one in the gut and said blandly, "Went to the park, the barber and stopped by at that hotel. You were right, Mary Elizabeth, just that business associate from the bank that George was to meet for dinner."

Minutes later, George met Grandpa Joe on the porch, and without Mary ever knowing he came home, Grandpa Joe dismissed George to his day of work with, "As long as the dragon does not make its presence known in the castle again, George the Queen will never know."

George nodded his head. If he was ashamed of his actions, it did not show in his face. As he straightened his hair and suit coat, Grandpa Joe offered, "Just be careful in that way, George, don't want any unexpected additions that will cause a scandal, lest the Queen be made to throw herself from a window. Give your brother Peter and his wife my best regards."

George tipped his hat and made his way to work, Grandpa Joe watching after him as he went, "I would like you to meet my daughter, Mary Elizabeth Fisher, and her children Gwendolyn Fisher, John Fisher and Michael Fisher... Ah George, so easily misled to the dark side...God help you find your way to the light," Grandpa Joe muttered to himself as he puffed on his pipe.

He did not call George "son," and he never would again, not until he was one his deathbed, and that was many years away.

Mary went about her usual day, and put the letter so far out of her mind that she didn't even ask George if he was in trouble for missing his business dinner. When Mary gave chase to George later in the evening after the house was asleep, he declined with, "I have an early morning, Mary, and I'm really not in the mood. We were only together in that way yesterday. Doing it twice took a lot out of me."

It seemed he'd been having many early mornings lately, but Mary did not notice. Fortunately for him -- or so he thought -- she was under the illusion that she still was the only one. Therefore, when he took to bed that night and rolled on his side under the covers, Mary got up and went downstairs.

She sat on the sofa gazing out the front window until dawn still clutching the envelope in her hand. Her father could not sleep either and went downstairs to fetch himself a warmed glass of milk. "Is there something you want to tell me, Mary Elizabeth?" he asked, before he ascended to his room.

"No, Father, is there something you want to tell me?"

He shook his head and said nothing. It didn't matter, for Mary never looked at him. As he climbed the stairs he whispered, "Lucky for George you are just like your mother, Mary Elizabeth, just like your mother, God rest her blessed soul."

Unluckily for George, Margaret Davis and Aunt Millicent had been granted a reprieve from Grandpa Joe. With Margaret away at boarding school, Millicent now took up residence in the Darling house, unwilling to be home alone. It was Millicent that smelled the strange perfume upon George's shirt when she helped Mary with the laundry, "Change your scent, Mary?" she asked, and Mary, after taking a whiff and responded, "I think whatever it was you bathed in is rubbing off on the clothes," causing her aunt to turn her nose and waltz from the house.

Aunt Millicent also noticed George's name on the jeweler's log when she went to have one of her many pieces repaired. Mary never wore any ring other than her wedding band, so a cocktail ring of emerald and gold with diamond baguettes was understandably not her style. She held her tongue, thinking perhaps it was gift for Wendy, only until the florist she frequented for her front foyer's arrangements showed several orders for a Mr. George Darling, none of which were to be sent to Mary.

Aunt Millicent jotted down the address and name and forwarded it to Grandpa Joe, who replied, "Yes, I am aware of such things." Aunt Millicent was shocked by his statement, and even more appalled when a stylish restaurant in central London, known to be frequented by clandestine lovers, had George's name reserving a table nearest the fountain inside for the same time, every Tuesday evening. Coincidentally, on the same exact afternoon Aunt Millicent dined there and inspected the log's future reservations, all listing the same for Mr. G. Darling, George informed his family that he had agreed to work late at the Bank on Tuesdays to train a new employee who was to be his assistant.

The last confirmation Aunt Millicent required before she could be assured without question George was in fact having an affair was to hear it in gossip. And so, as she drank tea at a corner café with her closest and dearest friends, she finally got what she was waiting for. A very attractive, young and most inappropriately dressed female with long blond hair styled provocatively took the table next to where the ladies sat. In her company was an older woman dressed just as unsuitably. As they chatted away in French, unconcerned for the proper society ladies sitting next to them, the gossip began. "That young lady sitting behind you, Millicent, the one dressed in a gown that cuts too low on the neckline to be worn for afternoon tea..."

Aunt Millicent turned her head subtly and glanced at the woman, and then looked forward with a nod and whispered "She must be French. My niece said, when she visited Paris, all the wealthy women dressed that way, as tasteless as it is."

"I hope you are not speaking of your niece, Mary Elizabeth, for I heard from my cousin, you know, the one that owns that dress shop nearest Main Street. She told me that she saw that very woman and your brother's son-in-law in there together. When they were not cuddling together in the fitting room, he was spending all sorts of money on that thing, buying her whatever she fancied and such..." She spoke quickly, furtively, lowering her voice and dipping her head in when repeating the juiciest parts like, "My sister had to go into the fitting room herself and demand they leave. She told me that he had his pants down and she was...well I can't say what they were doing you know what I mean. I asked Francine and Eleanor, you know they know all about who is committing adultery, if they heard anything and they told me..." the most scandalous parts were only repeated ear to mouth, so Millicent slid to the edge of her seat to hear, "that it is in fact your niece's husband and she heard that his brother has been known to throw these unmentionable parties where couples do the most unspeakable things with one another. According to her, poor Mary Elizabeth's husband is quite the bounder, two women and another man at the same time, swapping...you know what I mean."

Aunt Millicent's eyes bulged out of her head, and she peered back over her shoulder to see the blonde and the older woman giggling like schoolgirls, smiling playfully at the waiter who was serving them.

Aunt Millicent's cohort gained her attention, "They meet, he and his mistress, privately, you know what I mean, in the mornings mostly, and every single day for his lunch I've been told."

Those experienced in gossip and hearsay get into the habit of "knowing what I mean." They hear the same stories over and over again, so they substitute the parts everyone does when having an affair with that statement, and only fill in the details of dates and locations, which change from person to person. Aunt Millicent listened avidly, and at the parts where she would have normally spiced things up, telling of the florist and the jeweler and the perfume on his shirt, she remained silent. Instead of a smile she wore a frown, for despite everything she held against George, even those things made up, she too never thought it possible, and truth be told, it broke her heart to hear another call him a foul.

Aunt Millicent did not tell Mary what she heard or found out for herself. Mary dressed simply, and wore no expensive jewels; she never ate in a posh restaurant in central London. She never attended unmentionable parties or did anything unthinkable. She was a sweet God-fearing woman who adored her husband, loved her children, and made a good wife and mother, the finest in all of London, if not the world. Feeling her niece's fate would be same as Grandpa Joe predicted should she be made aware, she scoffed at her friends with, "Well, my only niece is Mary Elizabeth, and her husband George Darling would never do such heinous things. And you should be ashamed for repeating those untruths." The young blonde, hearing her lover's name, turned her head to catch Aunt Millicent's evil eye.

So it was Wendy Darling finally turned eighteen. George and Mary planned a huge party for her in June, when the weather would be more cooperative, her coming-out banquet at a lavish restaurant. For now, she would have to settle for a family dinner and homemade cake. George missed dinner, as it was Tuesday and he was stuck at the office again. He arrived home just in time to see his eldest child blow out her birthday candles and open her gifts.

The celebration continued as her girlfriends from school came over with treats for the guest of honor. The house was abuzz with activity and happiness. It is always at these times that, for two people in love, the world where they live should be full of only the greatest joys. Unfortunately, when living in that light of contentment, the darkness seems to creep in the easiest.

George's first mistake was not canceling his lover's meeting on his eldest child's birthday. So he left work early, and then stayed late with his mistress. The second error was leaving the receipts for his accounts with the florist, restaurant and hotel in his suit pocket. A third was not even throwing them away at all, but instead saving them for his bookkeeping purposes. But the fourth and most fatal mistake was leaving the evidence in a pile of clothes on the floor in his bedroom while bathing in the middle of the evening while the house below was full of guests.

"Is the water running?" Grandpa Joe asked Mary without thinking. He quickly countered, to save his son-in-law, with, "Ah, George is just taking a bath. It's very hot in the bank, was just there myself today. Probably thinks he smells of something unpleasant from sweating all day hard at work."

His words reached Mary too late, not that she was listening, and she ascended the stairs to their room. In that pile of clothing, she found the receipts, which she stared at blankly. She picked up a sweater vest that did not match the pants that he'd picked out to wear that evening, replacing it in his wardrobe, reaching for another. A box out of place, with the lid not properly fastened, fell on her and covered her in more proof of payments then her mind could manage. With guests downstairs, George in the bath and Grandpa Joe waiting restlessly on the stairs looking up, Mary gathered everything together and went into the nursery. She sorted the vouchers into piles of who and where they were from, and then took pen in hand and added up the numbers. When she was finished with all of the totals, she sat with eyes wide open to the window on John's bed. Mary suddenly felt as thought she had a cold rock in the pit of her stomach, as if she would never want to eat again. It was a awesome hurt, an agonizing misery, Mary wouldn't wish on anyone, not even her enemies that had now increased in number to include her own husband.

George bathed as quickly as he could knowing it would be considered suspicious behavior, but he had to. He reeked of French perfume, and his body smelled of the young lady he had been inside of an hour before arriving home. He entered the bedchamber in a rush and dressed without ever noticing the straightening Mary had done. He raced down the stairs to his father-in-law, who looked up the stairs from where George had just come from and shook his head. "Mary knows, George," was all Grandpa Joe could manage from behind his pipe.

"Knows what?" George acted as guiltless and dim to what his father-in-law meant as he could.

Grandpa Joe took George and wrapped his arm over his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Don't be a coward now, George. It must have required a lot of courage to take another lover, borrow some of that courage now, and go tell your wife that what she's been suspecting from your behavior all along is, in fact, quite true."

George slowly turned from Grandpa Joe and took each step one at a time trying to gather the guts to face the Queen, who was sure to have magically transformed into the wicked witch by now.

Mary Elizabeth Darling was no witch. In fact, she was still as beautiful as the day they first met, and she still sat on the bed, gazing out the window, when he stood in the doorway. She had endured enough, and now either her marriage or his affair would end by Mary's own measures. She didn't want his reasons, at least not yet, for quite frankly, she didn't care. Mary was quite pale, and she forced her voice not to tremble. Mary spoke first and last, her words the only ones in this situation that mattered. She was calm and collected, and informed George, "I am taking Wendy, John and Michael away this summer. We will sail to America and stay with the family of Wendy's friend from school. I'm leaving you here with Nana and Grandpa Joe and to whatever it is that has cost you... well, George, more money than you've spent on me in the entire time I've been your wife. You sold my diamond necklace and never made any attempt to replace it, scoffing at the foolish decoration that kept us from having other more practical luxuries, although I have seen none thus far. And here I have proof of a rather outrageously expensive necklace, earrings, a ring, a party dress complete with shoes and handbag, none in my size, several floral bouquets, countless dinners and lunches."

Mary batted at the papers neatly arranged on the bed, knocking them to the floor. "I must ask you, George, who received the benefits of your hard days of work, if not your wife and children? No -- on second thought, don't tell me. I'm sure when I see a young lady dressed to the hilt in jewels and a lace dress, eating at one of these restaurants holding a bouquet of flowers and your hand from across the table, I'll know."

She rose from the bed and George met her in the doorway and attempted to touch her. "Don't touch me," she whispered as she waited for him to move out of her way, he did and she returned to the party. Grandpa Joe was still waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and, when he attempted to speak, she told him what she'd told George in the nursery. He too had nothing to say, and when he tried to embrace his daughter, again she repeated her sentiment.

George looked at Mary's arithmetic, for the first time in her life, she correctly added and balanced the totals. Something in this case, for an expense he had never done. That is why those pieces of papers with numbers listing his disgraces and lies were hidden in a box and not written in his journal. George simply didn't want to know how much money, not to mention time he had invested in the other woman.

The trip to America they'd discussed (and decided would cost too much) was now given to Wendy as a gift, the "best birthday present ever!" The children, all now young adults, hugged their mother, the heroine, and although she embraced them in return, her face held an uncharacteristic expression of someone in pain.

The party went on uninterrupted, without Mary, who went to the cemetery to leave flowers on her mother's grave. Grandpa Joe followed some distance behind her, to make sure she was safe and would not do something rash, as her mother before her had done. She didn't, only kneeling down on the ground and saying a prayer for her mother and to God to watch over her and the children in their journey.

Grandpa Joe wanted to say a prayer for his wife also, and knelt down beside his daughter. They walked home together without speaking and Mary went to bed, locking George out of their room. Grandpa Joe said another prayer for his son-in-law before retiring himself.

The middle of May could not come quickly enough for all those involved. Wendy didn't even mind her extravagant coming-out party being disregarded to prepare for the adventure upon which her brothers and mother were about to embark. The children packed their suitcases and trunks without taking notice of their mother's quiet and aloof disposition.

Mary spoke to no one and only responded when directly addressed, and was the first to retire to bed at night, as soon as the dinner dishes were washed and put away. She still performed her household duties, which made things less obvious for those watching. She cooked the meals, still serving George first at supper, and cleaned the house from top to bottom. Mary even continued to perform her wifely duties to George, although that was by no means the same. She would lie underneath him, unresponsive and stare at the ceiling tiles above. No matter what he did to please her, she remained silent and would not look at him. If he tried for a kiss, she would turn her head. The moment it was over she would bathe. He would stand by the door to the bathroom and listen to her hack and vomit into the toilet, leaving no doubt in his mind that she was sickened by his very being. George would not allow her to banish him from his own bed; therefore, Mary slept on the sofa. The children never noticed that either, for Mary was awake and in the kitchen beginning her day before they arose.

The day of their departure arrived, and in the late spring's sun, it was first seen how Mary's skin had faded from fair to a pale ash. She had dark circles under her eyes, and, as the coachmen helped her up into the carriage, she shielded her face from the sunlight that poured down from the heavens.

"Mary, are you sure you feel well enough to go on the ship? You are dreadfully pale, and the sea is unforgiving to those who are ill," Aunt Millicent said, climbing in after her; for she had casually invited herself along, seeing as Margaret was still amiss.

Wendy too gave voice to her concern, not that her mother might be sick, but that they would be unable to go. Mary assured them with, "I'm fine," and they were off.

"It will be a very long summer without them," Grandpa Joe said to George waving good-bye to their family gone, rounding the corner in the carriage. Grandpa Joe went back up into the house, leaving George in the middle of the road. Mary had not even acknowledged him when she was leaving. She awoke in the morning, dressed and went straight down to the car. It was to be long summer without her indeed.

Her name was Vivian, and her last name was of little importance. Her aunt was Peter of the Past's wife, Eve, and she first met George when he and Mary traveled to Paris on holiday. Nothing transpired between them while they were there, for at the time she was a young girl of sixteen. Now that she was older, and the flirtation they shared in Paris more genuine, she had become his mistress. Quite by accident -- or so thought George -- Peter had sent his brother a telegram at the bank, knowing Mary had bad memories of him and his wife. "I know you wrote that we should keep our distance, dear brother, but it is the New Year, and perhaps we can make peace in our differences and reconcile. After all dearest brother, we are family..." He asked George to dinner, and, without his wife, George went and was reintroduced to the young attractive blonde who was different from Mary in every way.

Their first interlude took place that same night. It's bizarre what enough wine and dancing with a flirtatiously uninhibited young lady wearing a dress that left little to the imagination can do to happily married man. She flattered his strong build and handsome face, stealing a kiss on his cheek and then his neck.

"Would you mind walking me back to the hotel, Mr. Darling? I'm afraid to walk alone unescorted." George was a gentleman, a drunk one at that, and he obliged. It was to the hotel, and then to the lobby, and soon enough he was in her room between her legs having at her quickly. His altered perception from the liquor made his completion swift, and still she was thrilled. She stroked his ego with, "It is as if your body is perfectly fitted to mine, you just touched me in all the right places! Can we do it again? For I will not be able to sleep tonight or any other with the itch that you have gently bequeathed upon me that needs to be scratched. Scratch it again, George...please."

Her voice was exotic to his ears, a heavy French accent that purred as the words rolled from her tongue. Just as Mary had feared in Paris, he liked it. She was not better than Mary, only different in bed, but he wanted to be with her in that way again just the same, for she tempted him, "You must teach me how to be a better lover, George, you are so exceptional in your endowment with women."

Vivian knew of his marriage and knew of his intentions towards his wife and children. "I don't mind sharing, I know you have more than enough to go around," she told him that night and so their affair began.

Men in unbridled passion are blind, deaf and stupid. George was blind of the fact that what he was doing with Vivian he had done with Mary on their holiday. Only worse. The George Darling of London disappeared from the face of the earth, and quite possibly the entire universe that night and was replaced with the George Darling of Paris. And in only a week, all the memories of his duties as a husband and father, and responsibility of home and work were lost. He had sex in hotels and ate at expensive restaurants, scoffing at the expense of buying jewelry he would normally call unnecessary; his mistress received gifts, leaving his wife home alone undecorated.

He was deaf to the gossip spread about him, knowing no one would dare say a word to his wife. His reasoning was the same as the excuses given by Peter, "George, all gentlemen engage in activities such as these outside their marriage."

And he was stupid to think Mary, his partner in life would never find out. She, too, had smelled the perfume on his clothes many times before, and had prayed to God to make it stop. But God is a man, and this proved it, because He turned a deaf ear to her appeals and the situations of George with other women continued.

By other women, George also had Peter's wife. "Something different this time, something new I know you never tried," Peter told him as they both had at the other's lovers, all four together in the same room. "Mary would never do this for you George, now tell that was not loads of fun!"

It was mildly enjoyable at the time, but all too soon the George of London, rescued from his hiatus elsewhere, returned. Once he took a moment to glance around at his unfamiliar surroundings, he was the one ready throw himself out the window.

Vivian grew jealous that everyday he went home to his wife. She would stop at nothing to continue the affair full speed ahead. And now the old George, the one Mary had married, begged forgiveness every Sunday in church, not just for his adultery, but also for the one sin which, when God Himself heard it on His throne in heaven, caused Him to wince. "I love you..." George only said it to Vivian once in the heat of passion, but once was enough for her to remember and remind him of.

"Well, George," the priest told him every single Sunday, "I don't know what to say, except recite the rosary four times and prepare to burn in hell fire on Satan's lap while your wife watches from God's bosom. And George, end it now."

Try as he might, George couldn't, because there was something he needed from Vivian which Mary would not give, her undivided attention. That was until the night of Michael's redemption. While Grandpa Joe told the story of George and Mary, he stayed in his room and cried like a newborn baby. Not for his hand that was broken and swollen, not for his son that he almost lost. But for the grief and agony Mary endured, hearing it recounted. He knew this affair would not only be the death of his marriage, but the death of his wife, his darling love. His own suspicions were confirmed when in the morning John gave him the letter from his lover. He read it and raced from the house, leaving Mary without even a kiss for the corner of her mouth to assist her through the day.

There, in Vivian's hotel room, she told George, she had not received her monthlies and was now "weeks late, I'm too afraid to count back." The doctor who treated her for measles when she was a child had told her then she could never have babies, so she and George never used any precautions. Vivian had no other symptoms of pregnancy, only her missed monthlies.

"The only thing you can do is wait and go see a doctor," George told her with a troubled expression. "I wouldn't worry," he told her, for he was going to do the worrying for both of them.

"False alarm," Peter told George that afternoon when they met for lunch. "It was the dandiest thing, an hour after you left, she started having her flow." Peter could see his brother's mood did not lighten at the good news, and was rather alarmingly pleased when George informed him, "My father-in-law knows now, he caught me with Vivian this morning."

Peter gave his little brother a raised brow, "Will he tell our dearest Mary?"

George shrugged his shoulders, "No, but she will never forgive me, Peter, if she finds out. I must end this, now."

Peter leaned back in his chair and stuck out his lower lip, "Oh, George, don't be a fraidy cat, we are just starting to have a good time. And who cares if Mary finds out? Do you really think she would say anything about it? No, of course she wouldn't, not after the way she's been treating you these past few years, spending all her time with the children, not even giving you the time of day. She deserves it." It was easy for Peter to say and difficult for George to look past.

Vivian's monthly was a tad bid heavier than normal, and she was in excruciating pain. The doctor at the private clinic Mrs. Peter Darling took her to, told her, "I'm sorry you lost the baby, but don't worry, no reason someone as young and fresh as you can't have another." George never knew that, but just the same, for that reason and his own, he declined her intimately from then on, even though she guaranteed him it was not needed.

The Good George, also known as the George of London was back, and he knew there was to be an accountability and consequence. George never cared much for fun and games and so he moved swiftly for an abrupt ending, but to no avail. He too now prayed to God for it to end. Maybe God was a woman, for she turned deaf ear George's prayers and told him to lie in the bed he made. In fact, at night while he knelt by his bedside looking up at the ceiling, his was certain he could see Her, sitting on that throne in heaven with Her arms crossed, casting Her eyes away from him, shaking Her head at his stupidity.

Vivian quickly became a liability to his lifestyle, as his sense of hearing returned and he caught wind of the rumors circulating. They were far worse than he ever imagined, especially when his co-workers asked to be invited to one of his brother's many unmentionable parties for which he was famous.

George had two affairs to end, one with his brother and one with his mistress. His mistress came first. George met Vivian for the very last time on his daughter's birthday and ended it once and for all.

But not before bringing her flowers to soften the blow and dining at her favorite restaurant.

She accepted his rejection with tears and seduced him as he consoled her. "There will never be another man as good as you George, please stay, please save me." As her Auntie Eve once transformed into a an evil character from a fairytale who tempted Prince Charming with the forbidden fruit, Vivian now smiled her little victory as George dressed, late for Wendy's birthday dinner. "You will be back, for I am the one who loves you. Once your wife finds out what we've been doing, she will run away with your children and leave you alone in your house forever. Send me word when she does George, for I will be waiting..."

George's brother was next, and far more challenging to conquer. The day after Mrs. George Darling confronted her husband with her awareness of his infidelity, George ran straight to his older brother for aid. "Mary found out Peter, and she is absolutely devastated. I have irrevocably broken her heart and destroyed my entire marriage and all the years of trust I have built being her husband and father to her children. She is taking my children to America she's leaving me. Help me, Peter, help me make things right." George was the one irretrievably crushed, and he sat on the floor of his brother's hotel room with his head in his hands weeping like a little boy.

He looked up to see his brother staring off ahead, sitting on his chair as if it were the throne of Satan, with mild grin of satisfaction. "If you are asking my advice, George, I say divorce Mary, let her keep your children and the house and her father, and you move in with me and my wife back in Paris. You can have Vivian -- she seems quite fond of you, but if you are tired of her, there are many other attractive young things that I'm sure will be just as willing to be her replacement. Start over. Forget that witch you are married to, wasting all your years away. You should have never married her to begin with, if you ask me, a woman who will lie down for you and get herself in the wrong way, should have been your first hint. But alas, you are just the victim; a man who was getting it wet in a woman for the first time, thinking it was love or something better. No, maybe I'm wrong, maybe it was this time you were thinking it was something better. Either way George, you've lost Mary forever. Shame."

Peter rose from his chair and patted his brother on the back, giving him an evil smile. All this time, he was the wicked witch who coaxed the innocent boy to "come and nibble on my gingerbread house." George was now in a cage, and Peter was just fattening him up with the affair and the fancy lifestyle, all in preparation for the oven George was to be put into to. Peter had used his brother and niece in an elaborate plan to steal what was most precious from him, yet again.

George rose and his eyes met Peter's, realization dawning in his voice. "You want Mary. You've always wanted Mary. From the day you first saw her at the party, to our wedding day, as she lay dying giving my son life, and far beyond that. This was what all of this was about. And this whole time, all you wanted was Mary. You didn't want your brother, you wanted his wife, my Mary." George spoke his revelation aloud as it had now become clear in his mind.

"She's not really your Mary anymore, is she George?" Peter shoved his brother aside with his shoulder strolled triumphantly to the door of his room. He opened it and extended his arm, showing his gullible little baby brother the exit. "My offer still stands, brother, you have a home in Paris anytime you like."

George grabbed his coat and stalked from the room only to meet his brother's arm blocking his exit. "Don't worry George, a woman like Mary will never die old, alone and unloved."


	29. Chapter 29 Silently Speaking

My Darling Love

Chapter 29 – Silently Speaking

"_Silence is a true friend that never betrays."_

_-Confucius_

The summer was an eternity. The children wrote to their father and Grandpa Joe often, but not one letter arrived to either from Mary. The children never mentioned her in their correspondence, only describing the adventures they had in the city called New York. They went to the theatre and played in parks. Wendy got a trunk full of new clothes and even met a handsome gentleman who wanted to visit with her once she returned to London. John wrote of a place called Wall Street that was the financial hub of the city. Michael found mischief even on the island of Manhattan, but nothing more serious than getting lost in a museum. The memory the children would hold most dear in their heart was seeing a new statue that was erected in the waters off the City shores. "They call her Liberty Enlightening the World, and she is lovely," Wendy wrote. John said she was the tallest woman he had ever seen in his life and seemed rather angry, "not a face I would want to be welcomed with," which made Grandpa Joe and George laugh, the only time that sound was heard in the Darling house all summer long.

Michael wrote nothing of Lady Liberty because, that day, he volunteered to stay and look after his mother who had caught a nasty cold while on board the ship that only grew worse on land. The boys and Aunt Millicent returned the first week in September, leaving Wendy and Mary behind in America. "She was simply too weak to travel, George, and since Wendy is finished with school and is quite in love with a wealthy young gentleman she will not be parted from, they thought it best to stay there until Mary gets well." This Millicent related to George, who was looking for the additional carriage carrying the two ladies of the house.

Grandpa Joe carried in the bags into the house with the help of John and Michael, and questioned further, "How bad was your mother?"

John and Michael looked at one another and then back to their grandfather, not wanting to worry him, but seeing no other way around it at the same time they replied, "Worse than you would believe."

Wendy sent a telegram home a week later telling her father that she was forced to take her mother into a hospital for treatment. The doctor there diagnosed Mary with a "female illness of unknown origin." He felt it might have had something to do with the operation she had undergone after Michael was born. George knew the origin, as well as Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent. The attending physician wrote George his own letter that arrived the day after Wendy's. He feared Mary might never recover enough to return to England, and advised George to institutionalize his wife at a convalescent home for the wealthy in upstate New York.

"Now you will finally have what you want -- Mary out of the way so your little affair with that French whore can continue." Aunt Millicent raised her nose so high; there was snow on the peak. "'A female illness of unknown origin,' indeed! It's a shame with modern medicine physicians are still unable to diagnose a heart that has been broken beyond repair by a scoundrel who still feels himself worthy to be called a gentleman."

Grandpa Joe, as he had with Mary, asked his son-in-law, "Is there anything you want to tell me?" seeing the same troubled mind as his daughter had.

George answered, as his wife had, "No."

In church on Sunday, the Darling family prayed for Mary's health to return.

Mary was found well enough to travel, but only after George took leave from bank and went to New York to bring her home himself.

Here's how it came about: A month before Christmas, Wendy had sent word that, by the time her family read her letter, she, her mother and her father would be on a ship homebound. Mary had been admitted to the convalescent home as the physician recommended, and was now confined to a bed. She was beyond pale and her illness was now suspected to be of a mental nature, as she was classified as a hazard to herself and needed to be restrained.

Mary stared off into oblivion and her eyes, although focused on something in front of her, seemed vacant from her face. "They have her medicated endlessly, Father," Wendy told George, who was furious at his wife's treatment.

"Look at her arms, they are bruised and covered in sores from being bounded to the bed! What kind of medication is she on that she doesn't even recognize her own child?" George ranted to the head nurse on duty. George tore off the restraints, and with nothing more than a nightgown and blanket wrapped around her, George carried Mary from the hospital to the cab waiting outside.

Mary had no idea who he was, and called Wendy "Mother," which alarmed the young lady of eighteen all the more. "She has not been right since we left London, Father. Something came over her on the ship and she took to bed. Once we arrived in the city, she locked herself in her room. I told her before she went to the hospital that I was going to send for you, but she told me not to bother you with her woes," Wendy told him on the long ride back to New York City. George held Mary cradled in his arms as she slept. "She will get better now that you are here, Father, I know she will."

George hadn't needed to be told by anyone to go to America and retrieve his wife and daughter. He had taken the carriage his sons and aunt had arrived in, and proceeded directly to the port to purchase his fare on the first ship available to New York. "The only way to get there faster is to fly, and since men don't have wings yet, you're ship bound, Mr. Darling," the ticket attendant informed him when he purchased his passage. He arrived in America a week later, and saw the Lady standing in the harbor holding a torch of fire made from steel, just like John had described in his letter. He found Wendy at the hotel with her gentleman escort innocently eating ice cream in the café. They wasted no time in securing transportation to where Mary was staying, and within the day, they were at her side.

Now they were back in the hotel and Mary's new "mother," Wendy, bathed Mary like a child. Even after a week of being off the medication, Mary was still frail and incoherent. She sat in a chair on the patio and gazed off into to sky. Her eyes were now responsive, for they moved about and followed objects. Soon she began blinking normally, and responded when called by her name. As she had on Christmas morning, so long ago, when she surprised her family by rising all by herself, dressing and giving the ruse of being back to her old self, one morning in New York she did the same thing. She rose from her bed and bathed alone, she dressed in her clothes without aid and fixed her hair. It took over an hour to comb out all the knots, and while Wendy watched over her, she set it in the perfect twist and began to apply her makeup. When she had finished she needed a rest, but only a short while later, she ate a hearty breakfast and informed her daughter she was ready to return home.

Mary refused to return to any doctor in the city to have her health assured, and wanted to be on a ship on her way back to London no later than the next day. "I will feel much better in my own bed, Wendy. The passage home is always quicker than the journey there."

George bought the tickets to two cabins, hoping he and Mary could talk things through on the trip home. But just as in the hotel, George had his own room and Mary shared hers with Wendy, on the ship it was the same arrangement. In fact, Mary would not speak to George, and all their communications needed to be executed through Wendy.

George carried Mary from the carriage to the ship and told Mary, "I will carry you onboard my love, and to your room as well."

"Tell your father Wendy, that I can walk to the ship, that I don't need him to carry me." Mary would not even address him by his name. Mary's tone was irritated at his presence, "I told you not to send for him."

George's reply was accommodating and kind, "Please, Mary, had she not sent for me, you would have never seen the inside of your home again, let alone the faces of those you love."

Wendy was saddened to leave her gentleman friend behind, but he promised he would come to London just to see her, and she swore she would accept calls from no other, and would be counting the days.

Mary felt better and better everyday, and by the time they docked in England, the only things still missing were the smile on her face and the color in her checks. "Easily corrected with the proper amount of rouge, my dear," Aunt Millicent told her when they arrived home. Mary took a long look around in the foyer before walking straight through the house, which had been decorated for Christmas especially for her by John and Michael, and out to the back yard where snow covered the ground. It was cold, but not freezing, and there she sat on an outdoor chair with her coat, hat and gloves on, and gazed off into nothingness. This had now become her normal behavior.

"She did that the whole way home on the ship. She would sit on a deck chair and just watch the waves of the ocean pass," Wendy told Grandpa Joe, who looked upon his daughter through the back window.

"Have you talked to her about, well, you know?" Grandpa Joe asked George.

He shook his head in response. "I don't think she wants to talk to me anymore."

"Maybe it's because she doesn't know what to say or where to begin, and that's why she's silent. Maybe she has so much to think about." They both peeked through the back window at her, as now it had begun to snow again, and Mary resting on a chair made no move to rise and come inside.

"Maybe you drove her insane, George," Aunt Millicent derided from behind them. "Someone tell her to come in before she catches her death. Or is that what you want, George?" Before he could answer, she turned on her heel and stalked back into the house.

George had had just about enough of Aunt Millicent, and he strode after her. "Why don't you just say it, Millicent," George barked, "Call me a perverted adulterer whose foul and vile missteps in marriage have killed my lovely wife."

Millicent scoffed, "Huh, why should I say it to you? Frankly, George, you know it's true."

George turned from her and stormed back into the kitchen. Millicent was not through with him yet gave voice as she blew in behind.

"You know, what really breaks my heart is that after all that has happened all these years with Mary and you, for you to betray her and take up with another woman was the last thing I ever expected would happen, George Darling. Of course, lose your job, lose the house, not have enough money to feed and clothe the children, falling destitute out on the streets begging for money, even selling every single item in this house that is not nailed down or doesn't already have a debt owed on it, yes. Yes, George, I could think that possible. But you, you giving another women what you never gave Mary...I always said she should have married the bigger fish, and I swear I still do.

"My only solace all these years has been that I always, always believed that you at the very least made her happy by your unwavering faithfulness to her alone. I would have bet my bloomers the bigger fish would have cheated on her while on their honeymoon. He would have showered her with priceless treasures, but no, she wanted to be married to a cheap miser who wouldn't buy her a goddamn thing if they were giving it away for free. But that French whore, oh goodness me; isn't she a fine thing to look at wearing your money all over London! Look at Mary Elizabeth, George, LOOK AT YOUR WIFE!" She yanked George by his collar to the window and pointed to Mary covered in snow. "DOES SHE LOOK HAPPY TO YOU? WHERE ARE HER FINE JEWELS AND ELEGANT DRESSES? I GUESS MY ONLY NEICE IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! Pity you didn't enlighten someone with that information sooner."

Aunt Millicent turned on her brother next, but for him, her wrath was only a jeer of disgust, "Seems you rubbed off on your son-in-law, you dirty old scamp. Bet George has your blessing now to marry your only daughter. At least you both have something in common that you can chat about over dinner." She moved forward and pointed her finger in Grandpa Joe's face, "You know when Elizabeth told me you were laying down with those tramps you had working at the counter in the bakery, I told her it was simply not possible. Then I saw it with my own eyes, and I had to lie to her. I never forgave you for that, Joseph, and I never will. Your wife was a saint to stay with you after all the awful things you did to her. You were always working and you never had to see that woman suffer. I'm glad God listened to my prayers, and you will now live long enough so that you will see Mary suffer. And she will suffer, Joseph. Mary Elizabeth will suffer. It is not us who are punished for our sins, it is our children, remember that." Aunt Millicent turned to George and repeated the sentiment, "Remember that. It is your children who will suffer..."

Mary came inside after John asked her to, and at his request, she made muffins for their afternoon tea, unaware of anything that had transpired. None of the children witnessed the harsh words exchanged in the kitchen; for they were all out of the house visiting their friends. John arrived home first, and found his mother covered in snow and all alone. "Mother, please come inside, you'll catch your death." But that was just what she was hoping for.

George went to his room, as did Grandpa Joe, after Aunt Millicent departed for her own home. They all cried, every one of them, for their own sins committed against their loved ones. Grandpa Joe cried for Elizabeth, who turned into a silent statue of a woman, terrified her entire life that her husband would leave her for a woman he kept on his staff, until the day he sold the business. Mary was to suffer the same fate, worrying after a French whore whom George could easily hide in business meetings and early morning trysts.

Aunt Millicent cried for Mr. Davis, who was dead and buried, a victim of a heart attack after he found his wife in the throes of passion with his business partner. "Why?" was all that poor man could muster, and Aunt Millicent ridiculed him into his coffin with, "What did you suppose was going to happen? You are twice my age, and really, my dear, I only married you for your money." True, she had no children of her own, but the one she adopted was now lost to her in more ways than one. Being dead is one thing; never knowing where that part of her heart that a mother gives to her child remains in the world is another. George cried for Mary, and only for her.

The family went Christmas shopping later in the week, and left Mary behind with George's mirror image, his son of sixteen. Once alone, they sat in the parlor together. "Are you sure you truly want to know, Mother?"

Mary nodded, and her valiant knight began, "Her name was Vivian and she was the niece of Uncle Peter. Father met her in Paris and then again in London. Uncle Peter wrote father at his office and asked him to dinner. He knew you wouldn't want to go, so Father went by himself. He began seeing her in January after Christmas and New Year holidays, and he ended sometime in April and hasn't seen her since. Well, only one time over the summer, but nothing like it was before. In fact, she said that was the reason she was returning to Paris with Uncle Peter and his wife and never coming back. The things she gave me that Father had given her, I put in your vanity table like you told me to. She wrote you a letter saying she was sorry about it all and a few other things, but she said you probably wouldn't want to read it but you should." When Mary asked John if he had read the letter, he presented it to her out of his back pocket with the seal on the envelope still intact.

"Will you ever forgive, Father?" John asked her, his heart breaking.

"There are wounds inflicted, John, that heal by themselves for no other reason that you cannot survive unless they do, like a scrape on your knee which is not that serious. Soon it scabs over and then it is forgotten. But there are wounds that will never heal for any other reason than they are too deep, like being stabbed through the heart with a dagger. It's a fatal injury that no one can save you from. Do you think your father's unfaithfulness to me would be considered a scrape on my knee that will heal itself? Or a dagger in heart that bleeds endlessly? And really, John, it is not only his affair, but also his betrayal on matters of other importance. He lied to me, repeatedly. Not only about the affair, but all the circumstances surrounding it, the late nights, the early mornings, and the missing money. He looked me straight in the eye and he lied. He made promises that he never had any intention of keeping. One broken promise I can over look and shake my finger at and say 'shame on you', but how many broken promises must come and go before I should raise my finger to myself and say 'shame on me' for being so stupid and trusting."

John was speechless, and hung his head. He knew her heart bled endlessly, and if what she said was true, she was already dead. "Read her letter, Mother, maybe that can save you." He looked up hopeful; then his eyes fell hopeless at her response.

"No one can save me now, John. It is already too late." Mary rose from the sofa and kissed her favorite on his head. Of all her children, from the moment of birth, he gave her the least amount of pain. He was by far the most courageous, and she left him with the advice to learn from his father's mistakes. "I don't know why your father did what he did John, and I may never know. You just know what the result is, how much being selfish and self-centered in your life -- a life that belongs to another -- hurts the innocent. Don't hate your father, John, take the best lessons from his own mistakes in love."

Up in the privacy of her room, she read the letter.

_Dear Mrs. Darling,_

_It is with great regret that I write you this letter. I was told of your sickly condition by your son John, a charming young man as handsome as his father. I must admit that I have never been so utterly ashamed and full of sorrow in my entire life. I had no idea of your commitment to your husband, or he to you, when we engaged in our relations. Had I known then what I know now, I assure you I would have not made myself so readily available to him. I am not sure what your son will tell you of me, but I feel you are deserving of the truth, so I will write it down for you as best I can._

_I met your husband on your holiday in Paris and I swear on my life that we did nothing inappropriate while you visited with my Aunt and Uncle. I had the pleasure of his company again only last year after the New Year was tolled in. My Uncle introduced us at a dinner, and after many bottles of wine and much merriment we spent a few stolen minutes together in a private manner. Your husband was quite intoxicated and continually called me by your name, to my dismay. Our affair continued from there, and he continued to refer to me as "Mary" even though I constantly corrected his error. I believe the gifts he purchased for me were meant for you, so I return them to their rightful owner with my deepest apologizes._

_We met every Tuesday for dinner, and held an appointment on Friday mornings and his lunch hours twice a week. It is important for you to know that we rarely were intimate, although it was known to happen on occasion. I was more of a pretty decoration on his arm at private parties held by my uncle and his friends. He never would meet me on weekends, nor would he ever agree to spend the night with me, although I got down on my hands and knees and begged him. He only told me he loved me once, but I too believe in my heart of hearts that was also meant for you because it had a "Mary" on the end of it._

_He ended our meetings in the middle of April by telling me he wanted to go home and be a grown up again. He said if you ever found out you never forgive him and the shock of his betrayal to your delicate nature would kill you, and by the look on his face the last time I saw in him the street, I must say he was not lying. I happened upon in the park in July and he treated me as if a rabid dog and nearly kicked me away from him. He had been crying and praying to God I believe when I interrupted him, asking for your safe return to him. I pray to God for the same on his behalf._

_The conversation I had with your son John on our first meeting were words of the truth. I must confess you need not worry of the scandal that would have been for it was no more pleasant for me than it would have been for you, and I am thankful it was resolved by decision, and not by other means more invasive and too horrid to imagine. I guarantee you those would have been the avenues I would have pursued, and I fear now I would be one near death and not you._

_I extend to you my sincerest apologies and deepest remorse, guilt and shame for the anguish I have caused in your life. I have not only played a part in destroying a loving marriage, I have taken a father away from his children and a saint out of heaven. I pray that you will find it in your heart to forgive George and look past his mistakes and on to all the good times I am sure you still can share as husband and wife. I am returning to Paris, and I give you my word I will never return to London or attempt in anyway to contact you, George or any members of your family again._

_Thank you for reading this letter, and again I am truly sorry._

_Vivian..._

She signed her last name, but her last name wasn't important, so Mary did not read it. She also did not notice the errors in grammar, correcting them in her mind as she went. She looked through the gifts George gave Vivian, gifts the girl claimed were rightfully Mary's, just like George's "I love you," because it ended with "Mary" instead of "Vivian." There was a necklace of gold and emerald, earrings of emerald and a cocktail ring to match the set. Emerald was Mary's birthstone, and as she laid them out on her bed she wondered what Vivian's birthstone was. "Sapphire, she was born in September, I asked her. She hates emeralds. She said it was a much simpler set from father that she improved on from her own funds. She said you can keep it, for she only wore the emeralds for your husband." John spoke from the doorway of his mother's room.

"So you have the ability to read minds. What am I thinking right now?" Mary asked quite seriously.

"Why her and not you? Why did father do all those things with her and not you? Am I right?"

Mary nodded, frowning.

The front door opened and the sound of the family bustling in with arms full of packages could be heard. "What are the other gifts?" John asked. Mary opened the velvet bag Vivian returned them in and found a bottle of perfume, from an English manufacturer, a fragrance Mary would wear when dressed for a formal occasion. "She told me she only wears French perfume and wanted to try something different." At the very bottom of the satchel was a beautiful silk shawl; "She said she begged him for it." Mary held it up, admiring it, and, of all the items returned to their rightful owner, this was the only one she considered keeping. "He also purchased a dress, shoes and accessories. I told her to keep those, for you would never wear something of hers like that."

As footsteps, recognizably George's, came up the stairs, she stuffed the shawl back into the bag with the other items and gave it John. "I wouldn't wear any of these things either. Get rid of it, throw it away, burn it, sell the jewelry -- I don't care, I just don't want it in this house."

John took the satchel and turned toward the door, where his father now waited. Mary turned her head to the window and went back to that place where she hid in her mind when George was around. He knocked on the door to the bedroom, as it was now only Mary's room.

Since their return, George spent all his restless nights on the floor in Grandpa Joe's room. "Oh, the many nights I spent in this room alone when married to Mary's mother." He consoled his son-in-law as he tossed and turned in search of the peaceful slumber that never came. Now a new routine was followed each day. George would knock at the doorway and ask Mary if he could enter. She would either stand by the window without answering, or sit at her vanity in the same quietude. He would wait and wait and wait, and finally defeated by her silence, as strong as war, he would turn and hide in the parlor.

Tonight was no different, and George took his leave of the doorway after Michael brought Mary's dinner upstairs to her. The children all knew of their father's infidelity as George himself told them. He sat them down in the nursery they all once shared and recounted the details painfully of who, when and why he did it. It made sense to them, they remembered what it was like to refuse to grow up, and what happened when they ran away and then returned. Instead of the open doors and open windows and smiling faces Mary offered to her returning children, George, who should have known better, would not receive the same. "I believe now Mother would not care if he came home at all, just like Peter Pan told us, if you stay away for more than seven days you are forgotten, and now Mother forgot Father forever," Michael tried to explain to his siblings, once alone.

"Michael, who is Peter Pan?" Wendy and John asked in unison, both baffled.

Another man forgot a woman, and she now suffered like her mother. The handsome young gentleman from New York had not responded to Wendy's letters, and she too thought him a lost cause. So, after Michael gave his mother her supper, she sneaked up the stairs and knocked on the door. Mary answered in her robe and soothed Wendy's worries with the best advice a woman of her age and experience could offer a young lady feeling the first pangs of a troubled heart. "If it is meant to be Wendy, it will be. You will have many loves in your life, and if you pray and believe that finding that one true love is possible, then it will happen."

Wendy sat with her head resting on her mother's chest. She smiled, blessed with her mother's mocking mouth, and made the request on everyone's mind. "Mother, please talk to Father. Even if you discuss the weather and nothing more they are still words you both need to hear from the other. You took vows that said until death parts you. It's a pretty long time to live your life without talking to your one true love."

"I know, Wendy, I will eventually have to talk to your father. I'm just not ready yet."

Mary gazed out the window and Wendy's eyes followed her mother's. "Why do you gaze out the window so?"

Mary turned her eyes on Wendy and smiled, "I'm not sure. Maybe I expect a knight in shining armor will ride up at any moment and rescue me from this. But alas, I am only the queen stuck in the tower." Wendy giggled and embraced her mother tightly. "If you are sad Wendy, why not read over some of your stories? You have not even opened your journal since you've been home. I'm sure you have many adventures hidden within it, long forgotten. That will certainly cheer you."

Wendy suddenly sat up and then got up, "Peter Pan, Michael said Peter Pan! How silly of me to forget! Yes, mother. My adventures. Would you like to come along tonight?"

Mary gazed at Wendy intently, she had an odd expression as if she was hiding behind her pleasantly surprised smile. "No Wendy, not tonight. Some other time."

Wendy bent down and placed a kiss upon her mother's cheek. "Alright, Mother, I'm off."

Mary leaned to see Wendy dart out of the room and into her attic room. Mary got up from the bed and followed after her. "Wendy! Wendy!" she shouted up the stairs to her daughter's room with no response. As she put her foot on the bottom stairs, a cold breeze from the window left wide open in Wendy's bedroom blasted down the stairs.

"Mary, I'm going into your room to gather my work suit for tomorrow. Do you mind?" George said from behind her. Mary held her eyes up the stairs, all at once the calm warm breeze that smelled of the sea blew down the stairs, and then again turned cold, the air in the house falling still. George watched Mary lowering his head, "I'll just be a moment Mary, in and out."

Mary turned and looked George, then moved into her room before he could reach the door and slammed it in his face. The door creaked open and she handed him his things. A short time later, she told John who came up to collect her dinner dishes that, "Your father is not allowed in this room. Tell him I will move his things to the linen closet in the morning."


	30. Chapter 30 Turnabout in Unfair Play

My Darling Love

Chapter 30 – Turnabout in Unfair Play

"_The power of Trust stands above all in the greatness of qualities"_

_-Steven Stanford_

"It's a matter of trust, George, do you understand?'

The definition of trust as found in the dictionary: 1) Firm reliance on the integrity, ability, or character of a person. 2) Holding custody and or care. 3) Something committed into the care of another; charge. 4) One in which confidence is placed. 5) Reliance on something in the future; a hope

"I say good man, do you understand?"

George Darling stood before Sir Edward Quiller Couch in his office and nodded his head quickly, "Yes sir, trust. I understand."

Sir Edward leaned back in his chair and watched his Bank's assistant manager from between his generous gray mutton-chop sideburns. "We here at this financial institution feel that you are the most trustworthy of all applicants for the position. We have looked through your ledgers and have never found even one mistake you could be penalized for. You arrive to work on time and are never tardy, and you have dedicated your life to your profession here, George, and have made the board members and myself proud to call you family. You have earned our trust and respect, George. Therefore, because of your spotless record of service, you will indeed get this promotion and be rewarded, for there is simply not a man finer for the job. Congratulations!" Sir Edward stood and extended his hand, and George rose just quickly and shook it, giving his sincerest thanks.

"How is your wife, Mary, George? I heard it around the workplace that she was very ill recently. I hope she has improved her health over the holiday." Sir Edward clapped George firmly on the back and walked him from his office.

"She is doing better, thank you for asking," George replied very uncomfortably. Her health had improved, but nothing damaged in their marriage had yet to be repaired. She still held her tongue around him, and he still slept on the floor in Grandpa Joe's room. His hopes for reconciliation over Christmas were dashed when Mary moved all his clothes and personal belongings to the hall closet even after she received the most gifts of any of the children totaled and then multiplied by two from him.

"Well, my wife and I are hosting a Valentine's Day affair at our home and we would love for you and Mary to attend." It was a direct order from the President of the Bank, and George had to accept. After all, he was just promoted to bank manager under, the recommendation of Sir Edward.

He mumbled something about "I hope my wife will be well enough," and Sir Edward assured him a woman as lovely as Mary Darling couldn't possibly remain ill and miss the lavish party planned for the associates and their wives. "You wife will not want to miss it for the world, George! And you inform her, lovely lady that she is, that I shall look forward to the first dance."

George was not a gambling man, but he would bet his life savings that Mary would very likely refuse to leave the house, let alone go to Sir Edward's ball. Rumors of Mr. Darling and his French lady friend of loose morals had had died down, now quite passé. The sniggers and snickers of the neighbors, watching through their windows at the nightly pleading George made to Mary in the kitchen, continued. George would kneel at Mary's feet and clutch at her waist, like a child wanting to be picked up and cuddled by a parent. She would stand expressionless, and wait for his crying to end before forcibly removing his arms from around her and pushing past him to go to her room.

The children no longer watched from the top of the stairs, hearing their father beseech their mother for her forgiveness. Only once did she ever respond, saying, "How can I ever forgive you, no matter what the reason? I will stay here and be your wife in name only. Our vows are broken as well as my heart. Leave me alone, George, I can't stand to have you touch me."

Even so, he tried to win back her trust, the trust Sir Edward Quiller Couch gave so freely to him as undeserving of it as he felt he was. Grandpa Joe tried on George's behalf, but fared no better. "You knew and did nothing to stop it, not even for me," his daughter reminded him. "Aunt Millicent was right and you should take her advice. Sit back and watch all the needless suffering you created." Grandpa Joe had his own reasons, whatever they might have been, and left it at that.

The house, once filled with laughter and song, music and storytelling, was now shadowed in darkness, leaving its inhabitants with nothing more to do but go about their daily lives until death parted them. Mary did her chores, cleaning the house and cooking the meals, still serving George first. George worked in the bank and came straight home hoping to prove to his wife, she was once again the only one in his heart and on his mind.

"Why don't you tell my husband, Father, that if he desperate to bestow his favor on someone, I hear his whore is back from Paris visiting a friend she made while she was in London."

Grandpa Joe spit out his tea while reading the paper, "How do you know that?" he demanded.

Mary spun about on her heal, and glared at her father, "Peter told me," was all she said and it was left at that.

Grandpa Joe told George, more as a warning then a recommendation, and George spent the week that Vivian was in London snug in his own home, attached to his wife's skirts. The children prayed for their parents, and both George and Mary prayed for each other. But as many prayers were offered, God didn't seem to be listening, for nothing changed, and the Lord's silence seemed to spell an end for the Darling family.

But if that were true, then there would be no happy endings, and every story worth telling deserves a happy ending. As Captain Hook had once told Mary, "God keeps you in the corner of his eye," knowing Mary and George needed more than the corner of his eye, He presented them now with His full attention. God cast his glance down, and commanded an adjustment be made to help them along.

This day, a year and a day from the time this agony began, George walked home and entered his house at exactly ten past the hour of six. He removed his coat and hat and headed to the basement. He removed two suitcases and brought them up the stairs, bumping into his wife as he made his way to the second floor, "Very sorry, Mary," he mumbled, as he had caused her to spill her peas.

George laid his suitcases out on the bed, and began packing all his belongings inside. Wendy was heading down to the supper table, dressed for dinner and watched her father with much curiosity. John came out of his room, followed by Michael, and they stood arm to arm at the top of the landing with wonderment and trepidation at their father's task. He folded his pants, shirts, ties and suit jackets neatly in one bag, covering his handiwork with his flattened sweaters. The other suitcase he packed his pajamas, shoes, ties and personal effects. He took two towels from the linen closet and his bathrobe, pausing, scrunching his face with his hand to his chin thinking of anything else he needed to take with him wherever it was he was going.

"Going away, Father..." Wendy questioned.

"Yes Father, going away?" John repeated.

George didn't answer, only fastening the latches and lifting the bags now filled to overflowing to the floor.

Dinner was on the table and so Mary called up the stairs. The children did not respond for they were lost in thought, and George would not be eating in the house anymore this night or any other. Mary walked up the stairs and moved her sons out of the way when no one came down.

"What are you doing, George?" She finally spoke to her husband.

George started packing once more, remembering he needed socks and handkerchiefs, he responded. "I'm leaving, Mary."

Mary entered into his room with a quizzical expression and put her hand on his shoulder as he sealed the last luggage bag shut again. "Where are you going, George?" Mary held her face to him, wanting to ask of his lover, but the children were there so she questioned only with her eyes.

"I'm moving in with my brother Harold, Mary. Harold has recently returned to London and has now retired. He's a bachelor who never married, and he lives alone in a small two bedroom flat only a few blocks from the bank. I told him of my sins and he said I could move in with him, for he needs the company. I will send you support for the home and children every week, and I will continue to pay all the expenses. I'll leave the address where I can be reached on the front table." George leaned in to give Mary a kiss and then thought better of it, but so close to her ear he whispered, "I told you I would never see her again, and I swear on all that I have left in this world, I never will. I'm leaving to give you peace in heart and mind. All I ask is that you don't divorce me. Good-bye, Mary." George looked at Mary who stared straight ahead without blinking and then pecked his wife of nineteen years on the cheek. He also pecked Wendy's cheek and shook the hands of his sons as if he were going off to war. Mary stood frozen, and stared at the bed of blankets he slept upon nightly still laid out on the floor as he descended the stairs and headed out the door.

The children were stunned, just as Grandpa Joe was, to see him go, and did nothing more than race to front window to see their father hail a cab and ride away. "You are just going to let him leave, Mary Elizabeth? I would think it easier to keep an eye on him if he were living in his own house. Who knows what he can get away with, away from your eyes," Grandpa Joe offered as Mary watched John read the note George left expecting some sort of detailed explanation, but found nothing more than a street address.

"The first part of forgiving him, Mother, is learning to trust him again," Wendy whispered to her mother as she stepped out onto the front porch. "He said he wouldn't do anything else to betray you, let him go and let him prove it. You'll never trust him again if he hides under your thumb."

The next day at work, George gritted his teeth and approached Sir Edward, graciously declining the invitation for Mary; "My wife has thrown me out of the house for committing adultery, so I will attend by myself."

Sir Edward nodded his head and eased his new bank manager's woes, "Happens to all men at one time or another."

George was out of the house a whole week without Mary or his children hearing one word from him.

Finally, at Sunday service in church, Mary met a gentleman dressed rather shabbily for mass as she was leaving, "Hello Mary, you probably don't remember me, for it's been years."

The man extended his hand, and Mary, being a lady not recalling his acquaintance, replied, "its Mrs. George Darling, sir."

The man chuckled and nodded his head, "Happy to hear that, I'm Harry, George's brother."

Mary's eyes went wide, and she stepped back quickly, flabbergasted by his appearance, "Oh my goodness, Harold, it's been twenty years. You look so different." She tried not to sound rude, and he didn't take it as a discourtesy, as he was a very changed man. Once a very long time ago, he and George could have passed for fraternal twins -- they were only ten months apart in age. He was as tall and slender as George, only slightly less handsome in his youth, without the need for spectacles, and it was his brilliant and charismatic personality that made every other difference between the two brothers clear. But now, in the back of the church, still as tall, he looked, "so different," as Mary again repeated.

"Drink will do that to you, Mary," Harry nodded as he offered her his arm.

She accepted and he walked her home. "I was surprised to hear you were still a bachelor. I remember George telling me stories of you and your, well, lady friends in your youth."

Harry again chuckled and tapped Mary's arm as he repeated, "Drink will do that to you, Mary."

Harold Darling had once been a very successful doctor with an excellent bedside manner and trustworthy reputation. His profession took him out of London and far away to better things a short time after George and Mary married. They never heard from him, his name coming up only once in Paris when Peter remarked, "Harry's a boozer, haven't seen him sober and in his senses since before mother died." Most would consider him a drunk, and Mary thought it true, for so early in the morning, he already reeked of liquor through his skin and clothes.

But he still had that wonderful way about him, and Mary chatted with Harry on their walk home, retelling her side of the story as he listened. Randomly he would interject his thoughts on certain matters, matters that Mary shared openly, for she needed to tell someone, to free herself of the secrets. Harry shook his head, responding, "I suspected as much, as soon as George told me, and this how he told me, Mary, plain as day at his desk at work when I came to see him, 'I committed adultery, Harry, and I am to rot in hell.'" Harry did a very good George impression, complete with sitting back straight up with good posture.

"'Peter,' I said to him, 'how could you ever trust Peter?' and he told me yes, it was Peter and that girl was his niece. I was so angry with George, and then he told me of Paris and I was even more angry," Harry finished lowering his head as Mary reached the front steps. "You know, Mary, when we were growing up, Peter...Well there was just something about him...almost like he has the--"

"--The devil in him," Mary completed his sentence, and Harry nodded.

"He is the devil, Mary, when she was staying with me, my mother even told me... anyway, it's not important. What I wanted to tell you is George does nothing but go to work and return home at night. He sits in the parlor with me on the edge of his seat with his hands folded and waits."

Mary asked about what he was waiting for, and Harold responded, "Waits for his family to visit. That's what he says. He's sure any moment the children will come by to check on him. He says he knows you're not coming, but he prays you will. Poor bastard never lived by himself before, I think he's even coming down with a cold."

Mary gasped at the information and put her hand to her mouth, Harry was a doctor, and if he said a cold, it was a cold. "Does he feel warm to the touch, Harold?" Mary's disposition changed in a heartbeat, which took Harry aback, she was only obstinate and unyielding in her resentment towards George and his acts against her and her family a moment before, now she seemed oddly panicked and full of worry.

"No, Mary, he's not warm, just a mild cough and some sneezing."

Mary moved her hand from her mouth to her head, "Sneezing, he's sneezing? And you said cough? Does he wear his slippers? You know, Harold, I always have to tell him to wear his slippers." She nodded her head to Harry who tilted his up now with raised brow; Mary's concern gave for George gave him the opening for his younger brother he was hoping for.

"Oh, I don't think he remembered his slippers, Mary. There are many other things I think he needs that he has left home, his slippers, and socks, and even a warm blanket. We share the only one we have, he'll use it one night, and I'll use it the next."

It was a bit overdone, but it sent Mary up the front steps to the house only to come back down, "Does he have..." She held her face still and gave Harry the once over. Harry, seeing her expression, nearly sighed with disappointment, for he thought at that moment, Mary saw right through him.

Thankfully, he was mistaken for in her mind she was only running down a list of things George would need to keep his cold at bay. "Never mind, Harry, I will send Wendy over to your flat today to bring him his things." Mary kissed Harry on his cheek lightly and whispered, "Thank you, Harry," before taking off into the house calling, "Wendy, come quickly...!"

Mary sent her eldest child Wendy to visit George first, that very day, and she took along socks, a warm coat, blankets and towels from her mother. "Mother said you should still drop your laundry by for her, as the expense of playing a launderer will be a waste of money. She told me to tell you to wear your coat to work every day, and to change your socks when you come home, even if they're not wet. Oh yes, and don't walk around barefoot, here are your slippers. She also wanted me to check the cabinets to make sure you had enough food to eat."

George watched as Wendy scavenged about the kitchen, Harry nodding his head to his brother who was pleasantly surprised to have his first visitor in exile. "What are you doing, Wendy?" George asked, for his daughter had pen in hand was writing a detailed list of all the contents of the cupboard.

"Mother says she wants a list, that way she will now what to buy for you and Uncle Harry when she's at the market."

John came by the next day and dropped off two baskets full of food that Mary had prepared for George and his brother, Michael and Grandpa Joe following in behind with a load of groceries and packages from the butcher, the baker and candlestick maker. "Mother said she was worried because she was sure you are not eating properly. There is a week's worth of lunches in one basket, and a week's worth of breakfasts in the other. She said you shouldn't eat out a lot because of the expense. Here's a copy of her cookbook, she wrote it out herself with some simple recipes for you to try. I had to pry it from her hands because she was worried you would burn yourself on the oven or the stove. And she wants me to remind you to eat fresh fruit with your afternoon tea. She told me to tell you that you are to come to dinner whenever you want, but to tell you that you must come to dinner on Sunday with no exceptions," John recited the second he walked in the door.

Grandpa Joe's imparted message came next, "Candles, George, loads of them. Wendy told her the parlor was dimly lit, and Mary Elizabeth is afraid you'll go blind straining your eyes while you balance your ledgers at night. Here are the receipts for everything, she checked them herself, and then she made John check them and me check them as well, but she said you are to check them also. Oh yes, George, you are to come to dinner on Sunday, no excuses."

Michael stopped by on Friday to drop off a lamp for George, "Mother is afraid you'll forget the candle at your desk is lit and there will be a fire." He was also to make sure George was coming to dinner on Saturday. When George corrected his son with, "Your mother said Sunday," Michael replied, "She wants you there for Saturday and Sunday. And she told me to remind you to come by during the week; too, because you haven't yet, and she's very worried you aren't eating. I am also to ask after your cough."

George didn't have a cough, so with that settled, he offered Michael something to drink because he was thirsty from the long walk, but aside from water, they had nothing else in the flat.

An hour after Michael left, he returned, this time in a cab. He brought to his father two carafes of fresh milk, freshly made lemonade, tea bags, a teapot, sugar, honey and lemons. "Mother was furious that Wendy did not tell her you had nothing to drink when she took the inventory. She says you should drink your tea every day, and with lemon and honey if you are not feeling well. She was not sure what your brother enjoyed, but she said if you let her know she will send that by as well. She told me to tell you that he should not be drinking liquor anymore, now that he is family, so you are to give me all the bottles from the flat to curb his temptation. She also wants you to keep him from the pub --no, wait a minute, she said if he is a rowdy drunk you'll get injured. That's right, she said she would deal with that matter herself. She also wanted me to gather your laundry and ask you if you need any errands run, because after working all week you will need your rest."

In the morning, all three Darling children arrived with fresh biscuits, eggs, bacon and a breakfast casserole, George's favorite. "Mother said she is sure you are not eating right and she doesn't like the idea of you eating all your meals alone." They also brought along sheets, blankets, pillows and an afghan Mary had crocheted in the weeks George was gone. "Mother wants me to change your bed linens, because she says it is cold and she doesn't want you to get a chill when you are sleeping. She told me to feel your forehead for a fever and look at your tongue. What am I looking for?" Wendy asked George as he sat enjoying his casserole. The children showed the same bewildered expression as George. As they departed, they reminded their father, "Mother says she will expect you for supper at four. She also extends the invitation to your brother."

The children arrived home later, and Mary asked, "Did you do the washing up from breakfast?"

Wendy shook her head, "Father did them," baffled at her mother's relentless distress over her cheating husband's living arrangements.

"When you dine with your father in your uncle's home, you are to wash the dishes, Wendy. Well, is the place cleaned properly at least?"

Not sure what her mother meant by cleaned properly she replied, "The kitchen floor needed to be scrubbed and the parlor was very dusty. There is only a bed and a dresser in his room. The floor in there needed to be polished."

Mary jerked her head up, "There was no rug?" Wendy shook her head that there in fact wasn't. John and Michael were dispatched back to their father with a rug for his bedroom only moments later.

"Mother said to wear your slippers and robe when you are home. She said you will get sick if you put your bare feet on the cold floor in the morning so she wants us to set this down in your room. She also wants me to dust the parlor, for mother says that is cause of your cough." Michael held in his hand a feather duster in a manner that he showed he knew nothing about dusting.

"We'll just tell your mother we dusted," George offered, taking the feather duster and setting it down on the coffee table, "Why don't you boys go out and enjoy the day, no need to be stuck inside this old flat with your father."

Both Michael and John had firmly replied, "No, Father, Mother said when we are finished, we are to bring you to supper so you don't have to travel alone."

George and his brother came for dinner on Saturday and Sunday. Mary served George his supper first and allowed his peck on the cheek and planted one of her own on his when he left after dessert. "Next week you will plan to stay later, as Wendy has become quite gifted on the piano," Mary demanded, and George, happy to have any words from his wife, smiled and accepted.

For two weeks, Mary sent food and did George's laundry. Every day she made one of her children go to see their father, and stay with him in the evening. They were waiting on the porch for him as he arrived home from the bank, carrying with them a basket with their supper. "Mother wants to make sure you have a proper dinner and are not lonely," they told him.

They would eat with George, and then keep him company until nine. "Father, please just come to dinner at the house. Mother will send us to spend time with you no matter what."

George shook his head, "I know, she's afraid I will run off on her again with another. But I won't, I never will again, not as long as I live. I'm not that man; I know I'm not. As I look back I can't believe that I even did all those awful things. It's like reading your life story in a novel, and thinking to yourself, 'No, it's not supposed to happen that way, what happened to the happily-ever-after that was to come?'"

This evening, it was Wendy that had come to visit and spend the evening. George sat at the kitchen table and wept, while Wendy did the washing up. "I don't think Mother is worried about another affair, Father. She sends us because she's so very lonesome with you gone. And I think she has the same fears as you. She wants a happily-ever-after as well." Wendy finished and sat down beside her father, touching his hands. "Please come to supper at home, please spend time with Mother. Talk to her, tell her how you feel, hearing it from you will be so much better than hearing it from us."

And so George did come to supper. At the bank one wet morning, he asked Grandpa Joe if it was all right if he stopped over for dinner, "I don't know, George, I'll have to ask Mary, maybe tomorrow, I'll let you know."

Just like the children, Mary made her father go back to the bank in a torrential rainstorm and tell George he was always welcome in his own house. "Just between you and me, George, she was quite pleased that you were coming, for as soon as I told her, she began making your favorite foods. She rebuked me for saying I had to ask permission, and told me to apologize for being rude. She also told me to suggest -- not from her, although she said it, but from me -- that you should stop by in the mornings as well, for breakfast, before you leave for the bank. She's ready now, George, talk to her."

From that night on, George came for supper every evening, and was made to stay until much later. "You're not leaving already? Have another cup of tea." He drank so much tea he felt as though he spent more time in the bathroom than he did in the parlor. When it was time for him to go, Mary would say, "Take a cab, it's too cold to walk, and wear your hat. I packed your lunch for tomorrow, and I pressed you a clean shirt. Don't forget I'm sending Wendy over in the morning to gather your laundry, and she'll bring you your breakfast. John will take your clean clothes back to your brother's flat in the afternoon. Let me feel your forehead before you go, now stick out your tongue. Are you wearing your slippers at night like I told you? You feel a little warm; are you sure your not getting a cold? The flu is going around, you must be extra careful. Make sure you sleep with the afghan over your blanket at night. Is there a draft in your room? Make sure to close the window when you sleep. If the cold gets in thru the windows you must fold a towel on the bottom of the sill. If you get a fever, send for one of the children, no, on second thought, send for me at once."

One should not think that George was unable take care for himself; he would have done quite well without Mary's aid. He did eat properly, always wore his hat, and slept with the window closed. He was not warm to the touch and never got a cold. Truth be told, he didn't mind her mothering; for it gave him the attention he had sorely missed from her for so very long. Long before his affair, from the time after the children returned from Neverland, it seemed Mary often forgot he was there when the children were around, not intentionally, but the feeling was there just the same. The only time they would spend together were the few stolen moments before they retired. Now George was the center of attention in her home again.

The first time he came for supper, he rang the bell. "George why did you ring the bell? This door is always open, and this is your house," Mary told him with a smile. After that whenever he would come in, Mary would yell, "Children, come quickly, your father is home!"

A turnabout was bound to happen between them, and it came when John visited on a Saturday morning to go over his choice of university. A large creepy-crawly thing scampered out from under the sofa and over the papers George and John reviewed. George, accustomed to seeing the insects around, smashed it with his shoe without missing a beat. Aunt Millicent was the only pest ever found in the Darling home so when Mary was told of the infestation, she threw on her coat and was at George's door in a flash. She burst in and stalked about the apartment looking under furniture and opening and closing cabinets and closets. She nearly fainted when she turned on the light in their washroom and heard thousands of tiny feet scurrying over the tiles to hide.

"George," Mary gasped, "Is your brother aware of all these bugs?"

George could only shake his head, so he did, and then lowered it, "He's never home Mary. He lives at the pub." Well, Mary would not allow her family to live in that filth, nor would she allow her brother-in-law to drink himself to death.

"I will be back tomorrow to clean this flat from top to bottom. You and Harold had best be coming to dinner tonight, as you cannot eat here." She couldn't wait until the next day, and so, the moment she arrived home, she began packing her cleaning supplies. Mary returned later in the same morning in a cab, and brought with her fresh juice and muffins for lunch, and plates from their home. "I sent John and Wendy to retrieve your brother from the tavern! You will not eat anything off your brother's dishes until I have cleaned this kitchen entirely. I'll start in here first, then I'll work in the parlor."

She worked all afternoon as George tried to help, "No, George, this is woman's work, you just sit and rest. It's been a long week at the bank, I'm sure. Why don't you tell me about it while I tidy?" Scrubbed on her hands and knees was more like it. But she only cleaned the kitchen. When she wiped the first layer of grime from the floor and found a pattern of daisy on the tiles below, covered in an inch of gray muck, she packed his bags herself and demanded, "My husband will not stay another moment in this dump. George, you are coming home."

Harold was already inebriated from hours of drinking and was being helped into the his flat from the pub by John and Wendy. Mary smiled and thanked him for putting George up while they were separated and then apologized for calling his home a dump. She offered him the name of an excellent charwoman, then went on to propose he take a room in their home when their eldest son started University in the fall. "John is to graduate from school a year early. We can put Grandpa Joe in with Michael and you can take the spare room," she declared proudly as she, with renewed energy, lugged George's suitcase down a flight of stairs to the street below.

George followed after his wife with his hands full. Harold grabbed his youngest brother by the arm and drunk as a skunk quite frankly told him with slurred words, "Don't let go of that woman ever, do you understand? Make her love you again George, you'd be a fool to do anything else!"

George took a few steps down and Harold stopped him again, "George, stay away from Peter. I saw him just the other day, he asked about you, wanting to call here. George, I lied and said Mary took you back in already, he was pretty angry. Actually, he was so furious, I think he might have broken the arm of the woman he was with, yanking her into a cab and speeding off. Keep him away from your wife, and stay away from him yourself."

With his sentiment complete, Harold released George to a new beginning with Mary, and was all but carried to his flat by John and Wendy. "Make sure he gets to bed. Stay with Uncle Harry, Wendy, until he falls asleep. He's sure to pass out any minute from the liquor." George instructed, and Wendy, his loyal daughter, smiled.


	31. Chapter 31 From the Frying Pan to the F...

My Darling Love

Chapter 31 – From the Frying Pan to the Fire

"_A little neglect may breed great mischief."_

_-Benjamin Franklin_

George once told John the only question he would ever consider foolish was the one not asked. Keeping this in mind, George asked Mary, "What will it take for me to get back the trust I once had with you?"

Mary was helping him reassemble his things in the hall closet and did not reply. She was not giving him the silent treatment -- they had engaged in many conversations since he moved out, but none of substance regarding their impasse. Mary really needed to think it through, so she was quiet for the rest of the time she worked. With his personal effects neatly folded away in drawers and hung on hangers, she took him by the arm and led him into the room they once shared together. With the door closed and the subjects of the castle locked out, Mary answered with two words, "The truth."

They stood before one another for what seemed like forever, not speaking, just staring at each other. George bent in awkwardly for a kiss. He would have been satisfied with her cheek, but when she offered her lips with her eyes closed, he could not contain the passion that flared within him, long forgotten. He clutched her by her shoulders and drew her tightly to his body and kissed her deeply. Mary consented to him willingly at first, but then withdrew and folded her mouth in, "I need time, more time," she whispered as she moved from his embrace.

Seeing the questions in his eyes, she continued, "When you touch me, I see her. I see you holding her and kissing her, and making love to her. I just can't be with you that way again, I'm sorry. You can stay here, for this is your home, and we can be married. I'll never ask for a divorce, George, but I can't force myself to feel something for you that is lost forever because of another. It is too painful to remember what it was once like between us. I'm sure one day I will trust you again, and maybe even forgive you. I love you, I will always love you, and I'll never stop. But her face, her perfect face is embedded in my memory, and until it fades into the shadows, we can never be what we were." Mary choked on her tears, trying to compose herself by sitting down in their bed.

Mary saw Vivian only once in Paris that she remembered. George sat playing cards and an enticing young girl with blonde hair practically fell into her husband's lap as he won the last hand. "My niece Vivian, no worries to you Mary. She may look twenty-five, but she's only sixteen, and I'm sure George knows better," Auntie Eve assured her.

Mary sat on her bed as tears filled her eyes. She held her head as if it ached while George sat beside her.

Never having a chance to explain himself or his actions against his family, he took this opportunity to speak his mind. "You ask for the truth, Mary, and here it is as best I can explain. You keep me trapped in a game of unfair play. I will in no way ever tell you that what I did was my right as a man, but I will tell you that, at times, as a man, you left me no other choice. You were so absorbed in the children's lives that you left no room in your heart for me.

"There was once a time and place that only belonged to you and I, that we shared with no other. As our babies grew, you replaced me in those precious moments, moments I needed you the most, with the children. I tried to tell you many times, and you would not listen. When I was with Vivian, I made no attempt to hide what I was doing, because I think, in a way, I wanted to get caught. And I did, your father knew, Aunt Millicent knew, even John found out. You were totally oblivious in your own world, moving from day to day in the illusion that I was just as content as you were, when I told you many times I was unhappy in your neglect."

"I knew that you were having affair from that first night, George, I'm not stupid. I could see it in your face when you came home," Mary offered as the first tear rolled down her smooth cheek.

"Still, you said nothing to me?" he asked, his voice nearly breaking. "You never confronted me or made any attempt to win me back. You just let me go and put it out of your mind. And now you blame me, and it is of course my fault for straying to another, but not entirely. I never loved her, nor did I ever make love to her. The fornication we engaged in was purely physical. There was never an emotion behind it, only a racing to the finish to simply pleasure myself. It was infrequent, but I will not lie and say it only happened once or twice."

"How many times?" Mary asked, as the floodgates of her eyes opened, and tears fell freely.

"Do you truly want to know?"

She nodded quickly, "I can guess or you can just tell me, George, it will hurt no matter what, so let be over now and quickly."

"I never counted, but it was more than we were having. It was very difficult for me to behave that way with two people at the same time, you and Vivian. The act was so dissimilar between you both that no comparison can be made. I did not have to concern myself with her completion, and that was a relief. If you did not receive enjoyment, did not walk with me in ecstasy, I would feel like a failure toward you, not only as a husband but also as a man. As I was the only one you ever were with, there is a performance standard I sometimes find demanding to live up to. In a corner of my mind, I wish you had other men, that way you could understand the difference between making love with someone you want to spend the rest of your life with and having sex with someone you wouldn't care if you never saw again."

"And the gifts and the dinners and the parties..." Mary urged him to go on.

He sighed, sorting through his jumbled thoughts and impressions. "I felt it was only fair that if you were living in a fantasy world, then ... why couldn't I? Away from the house, away from the children, away from the responsibilities, I could pretend to be someone else. The man I was in Paris. The man I wished I were before I was married -- where money was no object and I could wine and dine a lovely young lady and shower her with presents. Not the woman you will wed, just someone who loves your money and your company. A learning experience, if you will, Mary, gaining the invaluable ability to differentiate between real love and lust. You were never available, and she was. You were always too busy to spend time with me, and she had all the time in the world. That in no way excuses what I did, but I do owe you some explanation, however poor it may be."

George spoke the truth. As Mary sat there on her bed, his words vividly called to mind all the times she'd told him, "Not now, George, I'm busy," or, "Maybe later, George, not now." It seemed "now" was never the right time and "later" never came, even after her years of saying it. She saw that she had been the one who had the excuses, "I am too tired after dealing with the children all day," or, "The children will hear us." She knew that the children were at school all day, so who she was "dealing with" was anyone's guess. And as far as the children overhearing, that was easily avoided by waiting only an hour after the children went to bed, instead of racing up the stairs to her own bedroom behind them.

The excuses now rang in her ears: "The children are jealous of the attention I give you George, we must stop being so affectionate around them...The children are angry because I hurry them at night to go to bed so we can be together, I must spend more time with them after supper...The children are hurt because I went to the market with you George, instead of them, I must take them from now on...The children don't want me to go out tonight with you, George, so I must stay home..." She now recalled countless other changes she required him to make in their home "for the children," changes George had no part in, all true.

Mary knew of his affair, she'd heard the gossip at the grocer and the intimate details from her own friends who had seen him around. "She's very pretty, Mary, you'd better watch out, and he seems very taken with her. They passed me on the street on the way into the sweets boutique, and when they came out she was feeding him strawberries dipped in chocolate, that they shared when they kissed." Mary smelled the perfume on his clothes, always the finest French. She knew the bank closed at six and no one ever stayed late, "There are no assistants to the assistant, Mrs. Darling, and business hours are business hours." If George put on French cologne in the morning, that meant when he left before breakfast, he was meeting his mistress. "No time to eat Mary, got to dash, early meeting." She washed Vivian's lipstick from his handkerchief when she did the laundry, and saw his seed dried on his underwear. Mary had eaten lunch with her friends and read his name reserving a table later in the evening. The florist delivered flowers to the wrong address on many occasions when no one else was home but Mary, and always the card read, "Thank you for the lovely afternoon, George..."

True it was never signed with "love", but signed nonetheless in George's hand. That was all her fault. Instead of growing together as their children grew older, they grew apart. Mary had her schedule and she kept to it, making no concessions for anyone other than her three children. She would not include him in anything she planned, and went on through the weeks and months and years, spending little to no time with him, just as a couple. He had asked her many times to go out to dinner, or to a play, or for a walk in the park and always her answer was the same, "Who will watch the children?" They were old enough to watch themselves, and because they were such well-behaved children, George and Mary never had trouble finding someone to look in on them. But Mary still refused to be parted from them, terrified that they would once again run away to Neverland and she would lose them forever.

George was ensnared in her web with no other outlet -- than one -- of escape. And he escaped -- into the arms of another more eager to be at his side and in his bed and outside his house, assigned there by his brother Peter who, like always, had his own ulterior motives. A most unfortunate situation caused by a lack of communication and bad timing now left George and Mary sitting next to one another on their bed, pondering this dilemma of great importance. What they were to decide on _this_ night would be the foundation for the rest of their lives, for as those vows taken in the night with God watching, "until death parts us" still held true.

God was looking down from heaven, as He always did where George and Mary were concerned, and He decided that this night was to be their own. If the truth was what Mary needed, and undivided attention was what George desired, then so be it. After all, what God hath joined together let no man put asunder.

Wendy knocked first and informed her parents she would be spending the night over her best friend's home. Next came John who, along with Michael, was going to Uncle Harry's to keep him company, feeling badly for him, now that George was back at home he was to be alone again. Grandpa Joe had already left and was traveling with his sister to a small town on the outskirts of London to retrieve Margaret, Millicent's wayward daughter.

Now they were alone in their home with no one else but themselves. With the front door closed and locked, they continued their discussion. First Mary would ask the questions and George would answer with the truth.

"How did it begin George?"

"You said you were aware, must I retell it?" Not the brightest beginning if there was to be a future, so George raised his hand and requested a "do over" of sorts. "Right after Christmas, I know you told me not to invite my brother Peter for the holidays, but I felt guilty not extending him the invitation. He never responded, so I just assumed that meant no, but a week after the New Year, he sent me a telegram at the bank that invited me and only me, to dinner with his wife and his niece. It was the same night as Sir Edward's New Year's party, and since you refused to go, I went to dinner with my brother and his family.

"Mary, you must understand I was bitter about your abandonment, I had a little too much to drink, and it had been so long since we had last... She was a temptation I found impossible to resist, especially when she persisted. It happened with her for the first time that night. I never meant for it to continue, for I was terrified you would see it on my face when I returned home, but at least that night, you paid no attention to my face, let alone my foul."

"And then?"

"And then she came to see me the next day at work. The gentlemen who work around me complimented me on my lovely lady friend. I was so excited to have a companion that other men longed for other than you, and she said she wanted me and only me, so I agreed to see her again. I told her of my marriage and my children, and my intentions towards them, and she promised to never make a scene and to hold her tongue regarding our relations."

"Your 'intentions towards your family,' what does that mean?"

"I told her that I would never leave my wife or family, and they could never be put in circumstances where they would become aware. I told her it would kill you, and the children would never forgive me. I told her it was never to be about love or falling in love, it was only about an itch that needed scratching, which is what she called it. I told her whatever we did meant nothing to me." George and Mary sat side by side with their eyes on each other, and held each other's hands.

"It meant nothing to you, and yet you were eager to pay so much for it, how interesting," she said with a tiny frown.

"Strange of you to think of something's cost, but you are correct. And so it began once or twice a week. We went to dinner and parties, we spent time with my brother and his wife, engaging in things that I could not even put into words for fear that I would get sick just calling them to mind. I made the grave error of telling her I loved her once while we were busy in that way, but it was not meant for her, but you, and I swear on my life that what I say is true. I even said your name."

"You called her Mary while you were making love to her?"

"I was not making love to her, I was riding on top of her as if she were a horse, and yes I said your name, because when I closed my eyes when we together, I thought of you and wished ... I wished it was you." His last phrase choked from him with a sob. George's words were soft and loving, he delivered each blow as gently as he could to his wife.

Mary just stared at him, unmoved by his remorse, her words were matter of fact and spoken with no emotion. It was a shameful confession George was making that needed further clarification. "You didn't want me in that way, Mary, and that hurt me. You didn't want me in any way, Mary, and it was painful. The constant rejection was stifling and I couldn't breathe. I needed to breathe. With her I had air, and when I returned home to you I felt strangled again. That is why it continued."

"Why did it end? Because of John?"

"No, it ended because of that night with Michael. That night that we made love, for those few hours I was the only one you wanted. You lay in my arms and told me this is where you wanted spend the rest of your life." He closed his eyes, remembering his ecstasy and her words. "You told me that my name would be your dying breath. You told me I was the only man that you would ever love, and that as much as you loved the children, even if it didn't seem true, I was still the most significant person in your life and you were living your life just for me. That my touch alone made your heart beat, and if ever you went one day without the kiss I leave in the corner of your mouth, your soul would surely flee your body in search of it. And then you thanked me for having patience with you where the children and you attentions towards them were concerned..."

It was word for word what Mary had told him, and still the next day he left her without the kiss. They both cried now, and for the first time they let their eyes fall.

"After that, I was never intimate with Vivian again. I tried on several occasions to end it, but she was relentless in pursuing me. She even went so far as to tell me she thought I had given her a child, and that is where John comes in, but you know more of that than I."

Mary rose from the bed and walked to the window. This was the part that almost killed her, and as she repeated the details of her favorite son's encounter with his father's mistress, she could not bear to look at George.

"John had been kept late at school with his professor on Wendy's birthday. He also missed dinner, and was passing by the hotel you and that girl went to. He saw you leave with her on your arm. After you parted, you went up the street and out of sight; he still waited because he wanted to see for himself that what he had heard in his circle of friends was true. She recognized him, as he looks just like you, and approached him, introducing herself. She informed our son that the relief you received when her delayed monthlies returned was a false semblance of certainty. She had in fact been with child, but lost it under circumstances beyond her control. At the time John told me, it was only her word to him, but after my homecoming from America, I was given a letter from her that assured the same. She told me not to worry about a scandal, because she would have sought a way rid herself of it, and she was thankful that was not necessary. I lied to John; I looked straight in the eye and called her a treacherous liar. And then I lied to him again after I read her confession and said what she told him in the street that day was untruth meant only to hurt him. Of all that is between us, this is only thing the children must never know. Do you understand?"

Mary turned to him and he wept inconsolably. For his crimes against her and his family, for a child created in lust that his mistress would have risked death to relieve herself of. "You know, George, the night of Michael's salvation and change, I had a revelation myself. Margaret sat before me at the kitchen table and told me she threw herself down a flight of stairs in hopes of miscarriage so as she would not be forced to face the consequences of her actions, while the man put that baby inside of her had not a care in the world. I thought back to when I discovered I was carrying Wendy without a wedding ring on my finger. Never once did I throw myself anywhere, nor did I even think it possible to remove something God put inside of me. I prayed every night and every morning, and sometimes at lunch that she'd be blessed with our beauty and God should keep her in my belly as long as she needed to arrive perfect and healthy. And when she was born, when all our children were born, I loved them just because they were yours. Yours and mine together, bonded in one soul forever. What troubles me the most is that, as sacred as is a child's creation, to know that a part of you will live on in another, why you would want that woman, a woman you claim meant nothing to you, why would you let her have the honor? To me, that alone proves that you loved her."

Now there was silence. A piercing silence that was painful on the ears and mind. A stalemate was reached and no one wanted to speak.

Mary stood by the window and watched her husband. George stared straight ahead and watched nothing. She was waiting for him to speak, but he feared her response would be hostile, and that the cause he was so valiant in conquering would be lost on a technicality.

"She told me it was not necessary to practice preventing a child because, as an infant she had suffered with measles." Just as he feared, Mary inhaled and exhaled deep and quick, her rage imminent.

"IN MY MIND IT WAS YOU..." He was the first to raise his voice to make sure a point was received. It was. Mary fell to her knees. "I would close my eyes and see you. I would touch her and think of you. I would buy gifts for you, pick out things you liked, things you wanted. But you didn't want them; you'd scoff at the expense just as I taught you to. So I gave them to her. I would sit across from her at dinner and ramble on about work, and the children and house and your father, and I would never look at her because I didn't want to see her. I wanted to see you; I wanted to see you looking at back at me. She would constantly have to tell me her name was Vivian and not Mary, because my sentences would begin and end with your name. I never let her talk, and always interrupted her because I couldn't stand the sound of her voice; it just reminded me that she was not you. God forgive me for saying this, and I hope I burn in hellfire on Satan's lap for all eternity, but if I had found out she was carrying my child, I would have ripped it out of her body myself."

George collapsed on the floor. He had wanted Mary kick him while he was down and even told her to. The thought never crossed her mind, and she lay down beside him and touched his face. "And you can watch from God's bosom," he whispered through his tears.

"Watch what, George?" Mary choked through her own tears.

"Watch me burn in hell, Mary."

"If you were in hell, George, I would save you. A thousand demons could not keep me from you. I would defeat them all and return you to heaven on a chariot of my love where you belong." Mary smoothed the hair from George's face and kissed his hands. "I love you, George Darling, I always have and I always will. I never stopped. I'm sorry that I was not there when you needed me, and I'm sorry that you suffered, and are suffering now. I wish that we could just start over again, when we were young, and change the hardships and struggles. I wish there was a way to erase the wrongs and only celebrate the good times. I guess that's what marriage vows are for. It all makes sense now, doesn't it?" Mary looked past her husband and off into the past, the night they spoke words of commitment and made Wendy.

"For richer for poorer, we've done that. In sickness and in health, we've done that too. In good times and in bad, we have good times, and we've had bad times. Love one another, honor one another, forsake all others, we have done all that. Promise to be true to one another and never take another except each other...with my body, I thee worship"

"That is the vow I broke," George said, gazing at his wife. He held her hand where her wedding ring was placed and touched it with his finger. After all these years together, there was a never a day she was without it.

"Forsaking all others, that is the vow I broke. I made the children more important than you and cast you aside." She now imitated his actions and touched his ring. "Did you wear this when you were with her?" He nodded. "To remind you to come home?" she asked.

"I no need no reminder of you, Mary, for we are one in the same. I wore it to remind her that there could only be one love in my life, and that is you. What do you want to do now?"

"We have honored all our vows but one, till death parts us. Should we throw away all the years we have spent together because we were both too blind to see and too deaf to hear? Or do we hold true to our promise and listen when the other talks and see when the other is in need?" Mary leaned her head into George's shoulder and rested her lips on his neck.

"What of our broken vows? Can you forgive my adultery?" George would now have his turn to ask the questions.

"I can forgive your adultery, as long as you can forgive my neglect."

"Can you ever trust me like you once did?"

"I trust you like I once had already. I'm not going to lie to make myself feel better, like I did when you were with that woman. I told myself I was imagining it, or if I pretended it was not happening it would just end by itself. I have to admit; it was just as much my fault as it was yours. It was my fault for ignoring your needs, and your fault for being weak." Mary shook her head as she called him "weak," the sound of her voice fell off into distaste as she looked past him.

"You think of me as weak?"

God sighed in frustration, looking downward, **_"This close, we were THIS CLOSE--!"_**

"Yes, George, on one measure I do. Again I will concede that you did attempt to rectify the situation between us long before it came to what it was, and I would not compromise, but that does not excuse your betrayals in the personal manner. You had no right to share intimately with anyone else what is mine. We are both to be punished on that merit. I am no longer the only woman you have been with, and forever I will always remember there was another."

"Would you have married me if there were others before you, Mary?"

"Were there?" Mary pulled her head back, curious if there was something more of her husband she was yet to discover.

"No, you were my first. I thought it quite obvious on our first encounter. And I am sure I have reassured you of that fact throughout the years."

Mary moved back to her position resting on her husband, "And that is to be no more."

"My father was a better man than I, he never cheated on my mother. He told me." George moved his arm to give Mary some comfort for her head, and she accepted, still without smiling.

"Yes, I know, she told me too. But your mother lived his life and never one of her own. Not to mention if he ever did cheat, she threatened to cut off his manhood while he slept." Mary sighed, annoyed, still not free of them, the Darling family of the past, while George mildly smirked.

He knew Mary wanted the tone to remain serious before it became familiar. "It is important, Mary, that we do not just settle things the way they are. We must work for a resolution. If I were you, I would never be content with a simple promise it will never happen again."

"Will it ever happen again, George? If I offered you an olive branch and the mercy you begged me for, need I worry that you will be weak and falter whenever a pretty young lady offers you her favor, or when your brother Peter comes calling? Or should I trust what my heart and soul tells me is the truth, that you would rather die one hundred deaths before straying from me again? If I am made to worry, then this is all in vain, and what we are fighting for is already a lost cause." Mary had sat up and looked at George as she spoke.

"What of my worries? What will happen when you fret over John when he leaves for University, and Wendy when she marries, and Michael with whatever path he follows? And my brother Peter, what does he have to do with this? You cannot blame him, Mary, where the fault is mine." George rose as quickly when she addressed him, and now he sat up as well, face to face with her as he replied.

Mary responded, "They are grown up now, well, almost. When John goes to university, he will be a man. Wendy is already a young lady with a mature mind. Michael was grown up at fourteen. The neglect you accuse me of was not deliberate. They had run away, I had lost three of my children in one night; do you know what that does to a mother? They were once inside my body, and I carried them with me everywhere. When they were delivered, it was my voice that soothed them when they cried, for my voice was all they had heard. I watched them sleep, I cleaned their wounds when they fell, and I dried tears and wiped bums. I bathed them, I dressed them, I fed them, and I worried after them. What if a stranger stole them? What if a buggy hit them? What if they choked on their supper? What if they got sick and I could not heal them? What if God called them back to heaven and I never got a chance to say good-bye? What if I had to bury them in the cold ground and live on without them after knowing them for so long? Not that all my years of hard work would be in wasted, but more so that a part of me would die with them.

"Penny told me once to have a child is to accept that forever that a part of your heart would walk outside you body. Never a truer word was spoken. So when they returned, my sole purpose in life became to make sure they were never lost again, and that is why I failed you. And George, had Peter not sent you word when he was town, you would have never gone looking for him. Well, actually, you did. You wrote to him after you promised me you wouldn't. You told me you were to leave him in the past where he belongs. So there again you lied to me, and you lie to me now, right now by telling me he had no hand in your affair." As Mary responded to her husband she grew nasty and catty in her statements. The last remarks regarding Peter came with an indescribable tone of hatred that George had never heard pass from her lips.

"I didn't lie to you about Peter, Mary, and that is that. I did what I did because I wanted to, and it has nothing to do with him! Don't speak ill of my brother, I never speak ill of your family. And as far as our children, did you think I did not have the same fears? It was my fault they ran away. You should have shared your qualms with me. Instead, you pushed me away. I think you wanted to punish me for the days you missed being their mother. You can be very cruel at times, even if it is not deliberate -- or so you say. I think it was very deliberate and premeditated from the moment you found the window in the nursery open," he declared, and stood up with his hands on his hips fuming mad. "What will my punishment be for my infidelity? Or have I not been punished enough?

"Who are you to accuse me of doing anything deliberately? I did not seek solace in another man's arms, now did I? I didn't lie to you and say the butcher shop is only open on Tuesday evenings. You know, George, you are the not the only one who has been offered the favor of a eager partner." Mary's comment made George jerk his attention to her and she gave him her best smug face with raised brow, she too now standing, hands on her hips.

"And what does that mean, Mary?" George asked.

Mary shook her head, sticking out her lower lip, providing for his approval a performance of "I know something you don't" peek into her wisdom. "I don't know which is worse, my having a variety of fervent suitors, and only wanting the one who won't, or your having only one lover that all the others desire ... and still wanting another -- or, in your case, others."

Mary turned from George and began tidying the bed with him watching, waiting with bated breath for her next proclamation that she was surely to make, for he very much wanted it. And so it came, and just as he wanted, he was finally out of the frying pan, but now most regrettably, into the fire. "I think you were the one who wants to do the punishing now, George, and you are trying to make me feel guilty to cover your ulterior motives of sleeping around." Mary turned back to him and gave him her full interest. "Why did not tell me of your sister-in-law that you also took to bed. Think me not clever enough to find out?"

George also presented his full attention. They had come so close to an outcome, and now, they were deadlocked in a standoff that was to grow increasingly argumentative, destroying all of their hard work, all of the ground they'd gained up to this point.

George stood, his caring disposition evaporating in a hot gust of malevolence and spite, now throwing the first punch, "Did you find out before, during, or after, Mary?"

Mary was very good at confrontations; she had her father's wicked fire that burned when she was provoked. "Well, George, which time? The time with your brother and your lover in the room engaged in their own indecent activities? Or maybe you are referring to the time when you had both your mistress and the whore your brother calls his wife all to yourself. Difficult for me to find out before, I'm not a mind reader, during it would be rather uncomfortable for you, and I'm sure even you would have noticed, so I guess I discovered after. The better question would be _how_ I found out. I think it's rather humorous though, all this time a closet pervert, and most think you a fairy."

George glared at his wife; feeling as though her disrespectful words cut all his ties to her, now she was the enemy in his eyes. Her gentle husband forgotten, the man George kept hidden inside for situations just as these stepped forward. "I know how you found out, I don't have to ask. Apparently you are still deaf, I told I wanted to get caught. You father told me not to bring it into this house lest the queen throw herself out the window. So for now I do have one question, which did you find here when you returned home that day? At least my ears are working; you said you only saw Vivian once in Paris, so I know it was not she. It was most regrettable for you to discover my sister-in-law still lying about, for she could not possibly give you the mildest inclination to your competition. And please don't refer to my brother's wife as a whore; I believe that title has been reserved especially for you."

If Mary and George were in one of Wendy's stories, they would be dressed in suits of armor atop horses carrying jousting lances. They would be riding at one another full tilt, and all at once, they would push forward with full force. Luckily, Mary would be carrying her shield and although there was dent in her breastplate, she was not yet defeated. But before she could draw her sword and engage in battle, she would need one thing clarified before planning her attack. She stepped back and inhaled deeply to regain her composure. "You think me a whore, George?"

"Yes, Mary, as a matter of fact, I do. What else would you call a princess of polite society that lays down for a man while wearing the ring of engagement from another on her finger, and on her wedding day no less."


	32. Chapter 32 War of Words

My Darling Love

Chapter 32 – War of Words

"_Two dogs strive for a bone and the third one runs off with it."_

_-Proverb_

Her own husband had just called her the name Mary had been battling and battered with for years. So, with that in mind, it is easy to understand Mary's intense hostility that would only grow and multiple beyond measure as the seconds ticked on.

"I wore no ring upon my finger, George, when I lay down for you. The engagement ring my fiancé so graciously bestowed upon me was left on my window sill at home."

There was apparently to be no war of wills for it seemed already over, and George -- for now -- believed he was the victor, for Mary had lowered her sword. With that wicked fire still aflame, Mary hurried out of their room and descended the stairs. She quickly dressed in her coat and hat and opened the front doors. Instead of raising a white flag, she hoisted the skull and cross bones. George who stood at the top landing called after her, asking her intended destination.

"Think of me as already dead, George, and do not worry after me now. I should have thrown myself from the window long ago, but you see, George, I have an awful habit of thinking of others before I think of myself. If I had committed suicide, I would bring sorrow to the ones I love and reward to my husband who would bury me with roses. May I suggest pink, in full bloom; fresh from the garden, like the bouquet I carried the day of our wedding? Could you at least spare me that one indulgence, unless you are in the poorhouse after spending our savings on your WHORE! Oh, wait, that's me! I'm the whore. Let's see, George, if I'm the whore that must make her a fine lady of proper society who just happens to take to bed with a man that is married to someone else and fathered three children, four if you count the one she lost. And here I am, selfish of my own needs and deliberate in my unfair play. What do you know -- I'm not deaf after all! And George, if you could spare the expense, why don't you have my correct title written on my headstone, 'Mary Elizabeth Darling, neglectful wife, devoted mother, filthy whore'."

Mary took to the top steps of the front porch, and George was already behind her, holding her back. He pulled her about the waist, and began dragging her back into the house with her kicking and screaming for him to release her. He stopped momentarily when she whispered, "Don't worry, George, I would never bring it into the house, lest the king slit his own throat with a dagger."

It did not stop him, and when she resisted by holding her legs tensed and straight, he picked her up and hoisted her down on the living room floor with all his might. "What's wrong, George, don't fancy the idea of me taking to bed with another man? Fret not, Peter is back in Paris, or so I'm told, and he took his lovely niece with him, too bad for you, we could have all engaged in our own trysts. You know, me with Peter, you with Vivian, is that not her name, George? Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be no competition for you, just dinner and dancing. That must be what they call it these days."

George was ready for battle, and he raised his sword and without warning thrust it in deep to Mary's body. "Maybe I should let him have at you. Peter was always asking about you, Mary, wanting me to invite you along. I think I might enjoy what he can teach you about how to satisfy a man; there are certain techniques I experienced with others I find you quite lacking in. Others, I did say others, didn't I? There were others, many others that you don't even know about Mary, countless others... Before we were married right up till this very night. In fact, I have been committing adultery since the day we were wed! Go to Peter, Mary, tonight, he is in London still. At least when he's done you'll appreciate what you come home to."

Their voices were raised as the combat raged on. "Others, you say, funny I couldn't tell, always the same for me! Maybe it's you who is lacking in experience, or maybe you're just not swift in your lessons with all those others. And I appreciate what I have, unlike you. Is this home not always well kept, is there not always food on the table cooked to your liking? Do you have clean clothes? Who do I do all that for, George? Whom do I slave for? Certainly not myself."

George would not falter now; he had come too far and so pulled no punches, "You do that for the children. You do everything in your life for the children! You are overly dramatic and very high maintenance, you can make yourself sick and you use it to your advantage. Do you know how many times I sat in hospitals praying by your bedside? The shenanigans you pulled in making me take a ship to retrieve you in New York City was nothing more than a way for me to chase after you. When you found out about my affair, when you found my sister-in-law here in our house, and she told you that I had only left with my mistress on my arm only a moment before, why did you not come straight to the bank and confront me? Any decent wife would at least do that. Worried about what the neighbor's would think?" George sneered, and now Mary shouted as loudly as her voice would carry.

"I could not care less what the neighbors think! Can't you tell? They knew of your affair, too. I told you I have a nasty habit of thinking of others before I think of myself. I was thinking of the embarrassment a scene like that would cause in your place of employment. After something like that you surely would never receive the position of Bank Manager you worked for your whole life! I was thinking of your brother who, according to that whore who I found naked on the floor I now stand on, would have been devastated to miss out on all the fun. For as she told me, your brother Peter likes to watch. I was thinking of my children who need not find such vile and contemptible evidence in their family's parlor. I lugged that rug out of this house myself. And when the deliveryman came calling with the new one, all by myself I carried it in and set it down. I didn't ask you to come rescue me in New York -- Wendy did. And you think me not a decent wife? A decent husband would have let his wife die in peace in her bed after giving his son life, instead of making her suffer years of agony and pain only to recover and be called a whore. The only person I ever took to bed with was my husband. You know, George, everyone told me the vows we made that night in front of God weren't good enough for me to allow you my virtue, and now after all these years I finally know you feel the same. Thank you." Her thanks were the only words softly spoken as she rose from the floor where he had dropped her.

Seeing Mary straighten her coat and reaffix her hat, George retorted, "Well, I suppose your Aunt Millicent was right, the bigger fish would have been the better choice. I'm sure it wouldn't have bothered him one bit when you tossed him aside once you had his children. You'd be a wealthy woman, living in the lap of luxury and have whatever you want and I would have moved to Paris with my brother and found many others just as pretty as you to act out my vile and contemptible behavior with, and they would have loved it, just like Vivian did. And you are correct, Mary, that is her name. I would not feel guilty for being disloyal to you and I would not be on my hands and knees every night begging you to return to the woman that drove me away in the first place! What a fool I am, we both would have been much better off that way. I wish I had never saved you from him that day. I should have just gone to the church and watched you walk down that aisle and marry another. Come to think of it Mary, I wouldn't have gone to the church at all. I told you not to divorce me, but maybe we should pursue that avenue, you know, I can go to Paris and have at my loose women, and you can run around town and earn your title. Now that the children are almost grown up, and you yourself said you would have more of your precious time to share, we can at last enjoy our lives instead of being bound to them. I bet you're thinking the same thing."

George was not a gambling man, and this was why. His most fatal error in cards always came when all the chips were one the table and dealer called the game last hand. "No, George, actually I wasn't. I was thinking before I say anything more that I can never take back, I should go for a walk alone to quiet my mind."

With that, and without another word Mary left down the front steps and out into the cold night. "I hope I don't catch my death, lest you spend another wasted night, praying for my health to return. Although I'm sure you'd prefer to simply be a widower than have to pay the expense of an attorney," she offered before she left him in the parlor.

With her gone, George took to the stairs and vomited in the bathroom. When the door opened an hour later, George was still in there heaving up food he had eaten a month ago. Grandpa Joe knocked to check in on him. "I'll assume it did not go well." George nodded as he wiped the sweat from his face. "What happened?" Grandpa Joe asked helping his disgraced son-in-law stand.

George recounted their entire exchange, word for word, and when it came to the end he finished with, "It was going so well, and then something just..."

"...Just snapped, and then you really had it out and said loads of mean things and you shouted at each other and called each other names and made empty threats you know you have no intention of keeping, like you'll continue cheating and Mary Elizabeth will take another lover to get back at you and all that angry nonsense," Grandpa Joe finished for him as they sat in the parlor. George nodded his head, again sick to his stomach. "Many a true word is said in jest, and many an untrue word said in anger. In the heat of the moment, dark sides best left unseen are revealed, a common mistake when two people who love each other fight. Happens to the best of them, myself included. It had to get worse before it got better, hopefully tonight was the worst." Grandpa Joe swayed on Mary's rocking chair and puffed his pipe.

"I didn't tell Mary Elizabeth what was going on for a few reasons. The first is simple, she already knew. The second was because you're a man and a good provider, and if you feel that you are not getting what you need at home, it's your choice to seek it somewhere else."

George turned his face to see his father-in-law, baffled. "Choice?"

"Yes, choice, George, not a right but a choice. You can choose to stray to another woman or you can choose to stay honorable to your wife and children. Now people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, and I make no judgment on you. I cheated on Mary's mother, too. As a matter of fact, what Millicent said was completely true, only worse. I was having it with a girl that worked in my shop, and my wife and I quarreled something fierce over it. The arrangement I had with that girl meant nothing to me, just another on the side and it was already over before she found out. But just keep the upper hand; I kept that girl working for me, as a way to punish my wife whenever she'd stop in to see me at the bakery. I didn't know it then, but I know now, Mary Elizabeth who was only a small child knew about it. And she would come in with her mother and see this lady working the counter every Saturday..."

There was nothing more to say until Mary arrived home some time later. With a look of steadfast resolve in failure, a blank stare complete with tear soaked cheeks and frown, not to mention undeniable loss evidenced in her eyes, she entered into the home and went to her room. The two men of the house watched her in silence as she retreated up the stairs. She quietly closed her bedroom door so as not to make a sound.

George looked to Grandpa Joe who shrugged his shoulders. "What do I do now?" George asked.

"You are far beyond any help I can offer. All I can advise for you is to keep your tone affable with her and try to control your antagonism. _Think_ before you say something you will regret later, as too many things have already been said that will never be forgotten. You are both speaking out of turn, and like Mary said, the mouth does not work in reverse." Grandpa Joe rose from his rocker and then touched George on his shoulder as if he had overlooked an important detail he son-in-law may find helpful. "Do you want Mary still? You spoke of divorce."

George shook his head without a second thought with an expression that said he would be willing to do anything to prevent that, "No, Joe, I would never divorce Mary, and I would fight her in the highest courts if she sought one herself. No, no, no, no, no. I only said that because I was..."

"Stupid? Thoughtless? Angry? A fool? Imprudent? Being Rash? Being reckless? Vengeful? Hurtful? Cruel? Heartless?" He laughed dryly.

"Doesn't matter George, you said it, so now she thinks it." Grandpa Joe completed yet another of his thoughts out loud, after sitting back down for another minute, "George, tell Mary Elizabeth nothing more of your affair, even if she asks. She knows too much already. You have mentioned terms a woman finds hard to let go of. Competition, more pretty, better off, easier to deal with, beck and call, willing, all about the other woman. Women, George, you told her of other women, other affairs George?" Grandpa Joe shook his head with disapproval, "There was one I know of and you spoke of another, anymore?"

George shook his head, "No, just the two others. I lied again to her."

Grandpa Joe touched his arm and with deepest sincerity, replied, "Do not lie to her George, not one lie must pass from your lips, do you understand? You are only making it worse for yourself. You made her doubt her femininity, and that's not fair. You offered your wife words such as being difficult, neglectful, deliberate, and indecent. You called her a whore for loving you. Who would you rather have -- your mistress or your wife next to you on your deathbed?"

George gave his reply without hesitation, "Mary."

"You must convey that to Mary Elizabeth, for her mind is now clouded in comparisons, even if you swear on your life there are none. You must admit to her, George, that you lied. And you must admit those reasons to yourself before you can ever hope to be forgiven for them. Every single thing you said to her tonight she will remember for the rest of her days, true or untrue. Keep that in mind."

Grandpa Joe retired to the nursery leaving George his bed. "Try again with her in the morning. Trust me when I tell you, if it is not quickly resolved between the two of you, it will begin to affect the children. Whatever your reasons were, you are to remember that is was you who committed the worst wrongs. Blaming Mary to alleviate your guilt will set a very bad example for your sons and an even worse one for your daughter. John and Michael will think it's acceptable to cheat on their wives when they don't get what they want. And Wendy will think it is appropriate if her husband cheats on her and hold her tongue to the point of the insanity you now put Mary in. How would you feel if you found out Wendy's husband was involved with another woman?"

"I'd kill him. In her regard there is no choice, I am her father and she is my only daughter. If I found him with another woman, I'd kill them both," George responded without even having to think about it, and then when he thought about it he added, "Is that how you feel about me?"

"No, because I already knew Mary had accepted it just like her mother did. I was wrong when I had my affair, and so are you. If I truly knew my wife took another man, I would still be sitting in jail for murder. Do you really want Mary to be held and kissed and spend time with another man, even if it's not of the intimate nature? Would you be able to accept Mary sharing herself with another? You couldn't stand it when she gave herself to her children because she was afraid to lose them again, and they are just as much yours as they are hers. Now imagine all that time lost spent with a stranger. And then imagine her telling you, she was thinking of you the whole time." George shook his head, horrified by the image. "Wouldn't make sense to me either," Grandpa Joe continued. "Remember George, you already told Mary turnabout is fair play and declared she should pursue another man's favor. If I were you I would pray there are no other men available and willing."

George removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. He checked his pocket watch and saw the time. "The children are coming in the morning with Harold for church. Best head to bed." George got up and shook his father-in-law's hand.

"George, just one more thing. There is something going on that..." He leaned toward George and then looked about to make sure no one else in the world could hear, "Mary has been very uneasy, frightened somehow, since you moved out. Not that she didn't miss you, because she did -- believe me, and that is truly the reason she wanted you to come home. But there is something more going on with her she wouldn't speak to me about. All I know is, she never wanted to be left home alone." George and his father-in-law stared up the stairs to Mary's bedroom door. Two adulterers worried that a pirate captain -- or worse a valiant knight that would swear his allegiance to her and mean it – thus, attempting to rescue the queen. But for now she was safely locked away in the tower and would remain there for the rest of the night. George went to Grandpa Joe's room, and Grandpa Joe went to the nursery.

In every fairy tale there is a magical kingdom, and in every kingdom there is at least one fairy. In the Darling house it was believed there were several that flew about day and night and performed the tasks that no one ever saw completed. George didn't believe in fairies that dusted or changed the bed linens or filled the cabinets with groceries. Mary did all that. He didn't believe in fairies that replaced clothes that didn't fit or shoes that wore out with new ones in the wardrobe, or toys or shaving razors or anything else that was reinstated anew without anyone noticing the change. Mary did all that. But there was one fairy George always wondered after, the bedtime fairy.

She was by far the most kind and caring of all fairies, for no matter what happened when you slept, she was there to stand guard. She replaced the covers when they slid off; she turned up the heater when it was too cold in the room. She put away shoes, and folded clothes and picked up toys, leaving the bedrooms neat and tidy in the morning. She could find you no matter where you slept, and if she could manage, she carried you to a bed or made you as comfortable as possible wherever you lay. For George, she laid out his suit for the next day with a pressed shirt, matching socks and freshly shined shoes. There was one thing he appreciated above all else. It was the most precious of all her gifts, which he was to discover for the first time this night. George did not remove his clothes or shoes as he lay on Grandpa Joe's bed and closed his eyes.

He had only been resting for about an hour, but discovered sleep was no easier to find than reconciliation with Mary. The door to the room creaked open, and although it was dark, in the moonlight George peeking through his eyelashes saw the beautiful fairy in her glory. She knelt down by the edge of the bed, and unlaced and removed his shoes. She bent over his chest and gently removed his tie, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt to help him sleep easier. She unbuckled his belt and gently slid it from his pants and fixed the blanket over his form, tucking in the sides. She moved a fluffy pillow under his head and then she placed a kiss upon his forehead and wished him "sweet dreams, my darling love." A tear fell from her cheek, followed by another that landed softly next to his face on the pillow. She touched his face and for good measure brushed her lips over his before leaving the room.

Once her visit was over, and the door to her room was closed just as quietly, George turned on his side and ran his fingertips over Mary's tears. He too had tears left to shed and so he did until the first light of dawn crept in through the windows. The fairy returned again and left him his Sunday suit. He covered his face with the blanket, so she would not think him awake and mimicked a light snore as she moved the blanket back down under his neck. She turned to leave and he opened his eyes and saw she was fully dressed for the day that lay ahead of her, complete with hat and coat. The front door shut and George ran down the stairs, but not quickly enough to catch her. He ran into the street just in time to see the cab carrying his lovely and defeated wife away to an unknown destination.

He called after her, and her name echoed through the empty streets and still the carriage kept going. George returned to the house, flew up the stairs and into every room in the house, looking for some hint of where she would be going so early in the morning. In her bedchamber, thinking all was now lost, especially her, he removed from his dresser the key that unlocked the drawer of her dreams in her vanity table. Grandpa Joe stumbled in, hearing the racket George caused by his searching, and found him reading over a note that made his tears run from his eyes like a faucet. He set the note down on the bed and read Vivian's letter that was found underneath the previous. There was nothing else in the drawer but a brochure Wendy brought back from a University for women in a city called Boston, located in America.

As George read through Vivian's penned confession, Grandpa Joe lifted the note that caused George's heart to bleed in anguish.

_Dearest Mary,_

_It has been so dreadfully long since we saw each other last. I think of you often and long for your touch. You have succeeded in making me jealous of your pathetic and idiotic excuse for a husband. I think you silly for taking him back. George was easily led away from you, just as I have continually told you all along. He is a spineless fool who prefers the company of whores and prostitutes to your loyal and graceful womanliness. When you had finally discovered his misdeeds, did he take the easy way out by accusing you of mistreatment, freeing himself of all the guilty pleasures he delighted in? _

_I told you that first night at my parent's party; you will be mine, Mary Elizabeth Baker, and belong to no other. If you still need more proof that my brother is as daft as he was that night, spilling punch all over you in an attempt to grope at your breasts, may I remind you once again that he deviously put you in the wrong way so as to dupe you into marriage, knowing full well that it was my intention to propose first. How valiant he was showing up at your window! George is a lecherous villain who seduced my wife and ruined my marriage, and he thinks that makes him a better man than I? Not to mention spoiling the virtue of my niece Vivian, who is forever shamed as a loose woman. Who will want her now? _

_Think of their child, Mary, think of that innocent baby they made together in their passion! George told her he wanted more children, but you were a barren as the desert, a 'sterile inept shell of a female' he called you. He will waste your loveliness and splendor trapped here in London, just to lord it over me. _

_How many more letters must I write before you admit you and I are meant to be? Say the word and I will retrieve you, and take you to my kingdom in Paris where you will rule as my beautiful queen forever._

_With the love in my heart that has always been there for you and only you,_

_Peter_

"Your own brother, evil, wicked as Lucifer," Grandpa Joe muttered to George who looked to his father-in-law in indescribable in agony. Without having to ask, Grandpa Joe answered his question, "There is no way Mary would ever, and I mean never ever, take up with another man. My daughter would rather throw herself from a window after she slit her own wrists than lie down with your brother. I know that Wendy was an accident on both your parts, but I must ask, George, is any of this other...is this true?"

George lowered his head and tried to compose himself, hunting for his voice, "Small details all taken out of context, I assure you. I did take to bed with his wife, but she was in no need of seduction, as far as his niece...I was not her first by far...there was a child..."

This made poor Grandpa Joe bend at the waist and clutch his knees, "George, how could you? Not even I..."

George interrupted, "The children must never know." He tugged on his father-in-law's arm and gave his most solemn face.

"Did you call Mary..."Another question Grandpa Joe would be unable to finish.

"No, never, it was Peter who used those words of Mary, they were his. When I asked him what I should do if Vivian..." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "Peter called Mary that, he said if she was, then I should keep the child, and make arrangements for Vivian." George reread the letter from his brother and then read it again, while he did his father-in-law watched closely over his shoulder, "What of your brother's proposal?"

"After we were already engaged, my mother complained that Peter should be married first, because he was oldest and he was the only one she wanted out of the house. She suggested it when our engagement was broken; right before Mary was to wed the bigger fish, Peter should propose to Mary, that because of his wealth and profession you and your wife would think him the biggest fish. We look alike, and Mary would never know the difference, she said. But my father would not hear of it, he said Peter was much too old for her being already twenty-two years her senior, and she would surely decline his proposal on that merit alone. Not to mention that my father hated your family for your treatment of me..." A sob tore from his throat. "How many letters has he written to her? How long has this been going on?" George looked down to his brother's note, and back up to his father-in-law.

"I don't know George, Mary always checks the post..."

George stood and ripped up Vivian's letter without another look. "He told me he would have never proposed to a woman I felt so strongly in love with. He told me Mary was mine alone that is what my brother Peter told me the day we got married. Months ago he told me I should divorce Mary, and go to Paris, leave her here and ... that was after I was caught. I never knew that everything was about him taking Mary from me ... I just didn't know! I'm the one who's blind! If he's been writing to her... then for how long and how often? Why didn't she tell me?"

"Who knows, George, weeks, months, years? I was wrong, your brother is worse than Lucifer. I wonder who runs hell when he's not there?" Grandpa Joe looked about the room, everything neatly arranged. "George, where is Mary?"

"She left at dawn, dressed in her best. Last night I told her ... to lie down with another man, my brother, so she would appreciate what she comes home to." George slumped down on the bed looking straight up towards the ceiling into nothing as he spoke, but only for a moment before Grandpa Joe pulled him up by his collar, "This letter is dated only a week ago, that means Peter is in London, look at the letterhead, that same hotel. Before she does something that will cause the death of both of you and me, go get your wife."

George dressed in his Sunday suit in record time and ran from the house. He ran all the way to the hotel, and without checking in at the front desk, he interrogated the elevator operator for his brother's location. With the room number secured, George raced down the hall, arriving at the door and disregarding a knock, even so early in the morning and unannounced. Next, he kicked the door in. Peter bolted up from his bed, nude, and approached his youngest brother. George met him by clasping his hands firmly around his neck. As George strangled the air from his eldest brother, the ringleader in all the havoc wreaked in George's life, the naked woman who lay with Peter before the assault began to scream. A whining and wailing pleading with the gentleman she called "Sir" to stop, brought George back to reality.

Instead of Mary, he found a redhead there, a redhead who was Wendy's age. "Mr. Darling, please, I don't know how Millicent found out, but please don't kill him."

George pulled himself off of Peter and backed away. He looked at his brother and saw his face was bruised and well scratched, a clawed handprint ran down the left side of his cheek as well as the right. "Mary or Margaret?" Peter choked and coughed as air now filled his lungs. "Mary." George responded with shock and disbelief. "I know, George, she already told me. Twice." Peter pointed to the bruises and then to claw marks. "She's a feisty one when she's angry and unimaginably strong. If your son had not pulled her off of me, I'd probably be dead already."

"My son?" George stood and glared down to Peter.

"John, he came home when I was there. Mary doesn't know about Margaret, nor does her bitch mother, so do you go telling her? We're brothers, remember and blood is thicker than water."

George needed no further explanation nor demands from his eldest brother, a man he once admired for his strength and courage. He helped his brother stand, and then, while Peter watched and laughed, George slammed him straight in mouth with his clenched fist. Peter staggered back and then passed out on the floor. "Margaret Davis, get up and get dressed, you are going home."

She did as she was told, and George took her back to his own house, as he knew that later in the morning, his children would be arriving for church.

George's first words when he walked in the door, "Wendy, take Margaret upstairs and dress her in an appropriate outfit for church. Margaret, DO NOT SPEAK TO MY DAUGHTER, NOT ONE WORD." They both made their way up the stairs in silence and remained that way as Wendy attired Margaret in a yellow dress appropriate for Sunday wear.

Aunt Millicent entered as they came down, and cried, "Oh, there you are, Margaret! I was worried sick that you ran off again! And here you are a guest in Uncle Joseph's house." She looked to Grandpa Joe, who was trying to hide his expression of great confusion, "Good of Margaret to spend time with Mary, she will be an excellent example of being a proper lady, just like her mother Elizabeth before her." Millicent spoke hugging tightly to her wayward daughter.

George fixed his disheveled clothes as best he could. He had his brother's blood smeared on his shirt and coat from when he hoisted him onto the bed. Peter was still unconscious when George yanked Margaret by her arm from the hotel room. They both said nothing the entire walk home.

John, Michael and Uncle Harry arrived just as they were leaving and as John began rambling his apologies for sleeping late and almost missing church, George replied, "I will express my sincerest apologies and beg for your forgiveness privately after breakfast." He hugged John, who was taken aback, but then fell into his father's loving embrace.

"You don't have to say you're sorry, Father, as long as you promise you will never be so blind as to not see again."

They took carriages to church, George, Grandpa Joe, Wendy and Margaret rode in one, and Aunt Millicent, Uncle Harry, Michael and John rode in the other. They entered the church just as the poor and penniless left, the first mass of Sunday offered special for them with no collection plate passed. Mary Darling knelt in the last row, with her head lowered, praying her rosary. Wendy noticed her mother first, and tried to gain her attention as they proceeded to their normal seats in the front. Aunt Millicent saw Wendy then Mary, and then whispered loudly, "Mary, there you are. Good of you to watch after Margaret last night." When Mary looked, Millicent gave her a happy grin, which was received with a look of bewilderment, and although Mary was summoned to sit with her family, she remained where she was.

George entered last and was directed by Grandpa Joe to see Mary sitting. She glanced at George who pointed his finger to where the rest of their family sat with a quizzical face. She moved her head slowly from side to side and then nodded him along to join them. He mouthed to her, "Do you not want to sit with the family?" She did not respond only went back to praying. George went to the front and told John, "I'm going to confession, and then I'm going to sit with your mother." John turned his head to his mother and smiled.


	33. Chapter 33 Points in Mary's Favor

My Darling Love

Chapter 33 – Points in Mary's Favor

_"To a well deserving person, God will show favor. To an ill-deserving person He will simply be just."_

_-Plaut_

"Oh George, it is a torrid tale. Between what Mary told me this very morning, John told me a week ago, Wendy told me just yesterday, and what Millicent and Mr. Baker have been telling me all along, I could write a sordid novel if I wasn't a man of the cloth and bound by my own vows. I still think you're going to burn in hellfire on Satan's lap and your brother will probably be sitting right beside you keeping you company. Your only salvation will be from Mary Elizabeth, so be kind to her. She not only says her penance for her own sins, she says them for yours as well and that, my good man, is love. Your penance is seven rosaries, plus you should perform a good act of contrition for wanting to kill your brother. Let us pray, have mercy on George in your kindness, dear Lord, and wash from him his sins..."

George left the confessional, and a woman who stood waiting to be the next to recount her sins, having overheard the previous evening and morning's events in George's own words, shot him a look of disgust. He lowered his head in shame and rushed to Mary's side, she still deep in her prayers.

"First mass of the morning, like when we were first married?" George asked in a whisper as mass was now beginning. Mary nodded her head. "Why did you not tell me of my brother?" George's questions continued as others around shushed him.

"Say your prayers like the priest told you to," Mary quietly directed.

"I forgot my rosary," George responded, hunching his shoulders.

"It's in your pocket, George." He looked in his pocket and found them where the bedtime fairy left it and began his penance.

It took him the whole mass and an extra hour to finish, and Mary waited with him in silence still on her knees. The Darling family in its entirety -- with the exception of George and Mary -- went to breakfast at a café on the corner. When he was finished, George sat back on the pew and tugged on Mary to follow. Alone in the church, with only an altar boy down front extinguishing the candles, they sat, both of them deep in thought. They both began to speak at the same time; both out of turn and then fell silent again.

"You go first. Start with Peter please," George urged Mary with his eyes and so she began.

"I met your brother, George, in the park when I was fifteen. I was dancing about with Penny, pretending we were at the lord mayor's ball. I was teaching her how to waltz; she spun me about and right into your brother. Now if I was fifteen, that would have made you twenty-two, and since he is fifteen years your senior that made him thirty- seven on that day in particular and he looked every inch of it. He was an older gentleman dressed in a fine suit, carrying his newspaper, heading off to work, I assumed, as Penny and I were already late for school. I apologized for my clumsiness.

"He smiled at me, not at all nicely -- well, I'm not sure how to describe it, but it made me very uncomfortable. He asked me if I would like to go dancing for real, and I declined, being only fifteen, and he said my age of was no importance to him. He would not let go of my hand, and became rather insistent that I accompany him from the park. He told me he was going to tell my father I was a flirt, and began to drag me from the park, 'I'm taking you to your father, you silly little twit,' he told me, 'and I'm going to tell him how rude you are.' He started to yell when I gave him more trouble. Penny's mother caught us at that time, for she was on her way to the grocer, and she told Peter if he did not release me, she would call the constable. Your brother tipped his hat to me, and left without another word. And from that day on, I saw him everywhere I went. I saw him when I would walk to my piano lessons, from school, to my house, to church and to the bank. He kept smiling at me with that same grin that made my skin crawl." Mary turned to George who was fixing his glasses on his face. "Did you know that?"

"Know what, Mary?" he asked, and Mary turned from her husband shaking her head.

"That your brother Peter made me skin crawl from the first time I ever set eyes upon him George..." she retorted and again there was silence.

George shifted awkwardly in his seat and offered, "I thought the first time you met him was at my parent's winter formal. But you don't remember being there."

Mary glanced heavenward and made the sign of the cross, silently asking for forgiveness for her impolite gesture of irritation. "I remember George. I remember your brother following me around the entire night, whispering the foulest things in my ear, describing in great detail what he intended to do with me when he finally had me alone with none other around. I also remember you standing next to your mother watching."

George's look of surprise and concern were unmistakable. "When I asked why he was bothering you, Peter said you were a horrible tease, playing hard to get. I felt sorry for you."

George was interrupted by Mary's bitter laugh, "You felt sorry for me? Are you sure it was me you felt sorry for?"

George jerked his head toward Mary and responded, "Yes, I did. I felt very sorry for you because I know how Peter can be when pursuing a lady he desires. So I offered you punch, thinking you could follow me to the punch bowl where your mother was standing. But you stayed with Peter, which led me to believe you were actually enjoying his attentions. As I returned to you, he tripped me and I fell into you, and ACCIDENTALLY brushed your bosom, Mary. I tried to extend my apologies but you wouldn't hear of it and slapped me, calling me, of all people, horridly cruel names. You broke my spectacles and I was blind as a bat for a week before I could replace them. And, if I remember correctly, Peter and you, my dear wife, laughed at me," he accused her, as he was already growing argumentative

"I most certainly did not laugh at you, George Darling, that was your brother who was cackling. I was so humiliated I ran from the room and all the way home with my Aunt Millicent at my heels. As far as not following you to the punch bowl, it was rather difficult, with your bother pinching the back of my dress so that if I moved any direction but closer to him, it would have torn. Peter told me you were his younger brother, although he did not call you George, he used another name, and while you were fetching me a glass of drink from the punch that had been mixed with liquor he told me what you both intended to do with me once I was drunk from it. 'You must drink it, dearest Mary, it would insult my parents if you refused.' I did not slap you, George, that I remember, nor call you names, and that is why I also deny that encounter with you ever happened. I tell everyone the story that seems to speak the truth of the situation, although I assure you, it didn't happen that way." Mary's voice had risen as she defended herself, and now her disposition cooled quicker then George's, who was still quite perturbed. "I'm sorry you think I broke your spectacles, George."

The church was quiet, they the only two left inside, and once again there was nothing but quiet between them.

"I still saw Peter around after that, not every day, but often. He would offer me a ride in his carriage, or follow me when I strolled in the park or to and from my lessons with Aunt Millicent."

"Well, Mary, if you felt him a nuisance, you should have said something to someone." George was exasperated, and it showed in his voice, "I mean, really, how foolish of you, Mary, you have a older gentleman constantly chasing after you, and you said absolutely nothing. What were you thinking?"

Her voice was soft. "I was only sixteen, George, not twenty-five or thirty. I was not even allowed to court with a boy my own age, let alone know what those vile things meant when he said them. Do you not remember our wedding night, George? I didn't even know what consummate and favor meant, and those words are acceptable formalities. Can you imagine what it is like to hear an adult speak with sentiments that sound foreign to your ears? Even with that, it was never his words that frightened me; it was the look in his eyes when he said them, his expression, and his tone. The emotion displayed there frightened me, for I was only a child. I told my Aunt Millicent, and she told me the same thing he did, 'You are a silly twit and I am going to tell your father that you are being a nasty flirt leading a older well respected gentleman on in such a way.' How do you think that made me feel? I tell you, George, it made me feel like, well, like a silly little twit." Mary kept her eyes on her husband as she explained; George kept his eyes on his shoes, not even giving her the courtesy of his attention.

"Well Mary, what of the letters? I found only one of his letters in your vanity. It said he's been writing you letters." Now he raised his eyes to her, and taking the exact stance his father-in-law warned him against, his method grew antagonistic.

"He only began writing to me after we were engaged. Peter, in his first letter, asked me to refuse you and marry him instead. I declined, and asked him politely to never write to me again. I warned him that I would tell you of his obsession with me, and he informed me you would never believe such a thing because you are brothers. He continued to write, until he found out I was expectant, then he sent one last letter, informing me that you confessed to him that you meant to leave yourself inside of me so I would have to marry you, and you would finally have one up over him, since he was a far more successful gentleman that you ever would be. I knew that was not possible, for there was never a need for you to be deceitful with me in that way. After your family disowned you, I never thought of it, and I was relieved that it was all over and I would never have to see him again. Even after he returned to retrieve your mother, he showed no further interest in me, so I did not think it necessary to bring it up and remind anyone of his old affections. Anyway, he seemed to have accepted our marriage and was happy for us." She watched George's expression change from animosity to an odd emptiness.

She continued. "He was good with the children, and I thought he had changed. What good would it have done for me to bring up the past as we were well living in the present? Then he invited us to his estate in France. From the moment we arrived I knew he had an ulterior motive, and that mess with his wife and his offer to you was my proof. He pulled me aside before we left and told me one way or another I would be his, and just because it didn't work this time didn't mean it wouldn't work another. As far as he was concerned, you had already taken the bait. All of the bait in fact, for not only did he tempt you with other women, he changed your entire personality and made you a completely different sort of gentleman right before my very eyes. There was nothing I could do, but stand and watch." She glared, hurt, at his blank face. It was almost like he doubted her words, as if it were possible to make something like this up.

"You could have done something, Mary. You could have told me," George sighed while shaking his head, the anger yet again looming deep inside of him.

"I did, George, I did." Mary clutched his arm and touched his face to turn him to her. "I told you I wanted to go home."

George yanked his arm from her violently, "Yes, Mary, home to the children."

So now she swallowed her hurt and presented him with a matter-of-fact tone, "The children had not run away yet, George, this was during the time when it was just you and me and no other. You told me not to speak ill of Peter, for he was your family. Your brother has been sending me letters since we returned from Paris. I never told you because of all the wonderful things you said of him for hosting that holiday for us, and I know how much you admired him as you were growing up. And in the back of my mind, perhaps ... perhaps I thought you wouldn't believe me anyway. You don't now, and you even read his letter. He asked me to visit with him when in London, for his business brought him here often. I always declined as graciously as I could, and thanked him for the invitation in a manner that -- I hoped --- he would interpret as me being ignorant of his intentions. Every time I received a letter, I responded quickly, as required by proper etiquette, and every letter I received, I burned in the fireplace.

She drew a shuddering breath. "As the months drew on, his letters became more troublesome, and much more descriptive of the visit and favors he was hoping for. Those I responded to with rather rude and abrupt language, to dissuade any further attempts to gain my favor. Obviously, it didn't work, and he threatened to bring the most gorgeous woman he could find in Paris with him on his next trip to tempt you away, to prove to me that you would do the same thing to me if given the chance. Between his continued torture that I hid to protect you, and the children growing up and away before my eyes, Aunt Millicent stealing Margaret and then bending my ear about what a lovely young lady she raised that would marry far better than our Wendy, and countless other insults and duties I have as wife and mother -- well, you can imagine I was quite preoccupied. I left you to your own resources, which I have discovered was my greatest mistake."

As Mary spoke, she kept her eyes forward to the altar and the cross that hung above. George watched his wife and when she took a breath after blaming herself, he interjected without thinking, "After what happened in Paris, you should have told me everything. From the time you first met him, until we were engaged, and everything in between, every single letter, note and evil invitation you should have shown me so I could have read it for myself! You allowed him to plot against me. This was just your way of testing me to see if I meant what I said after what had transpired with his wife. So I was right after all? Were you ignoring me deliberately, to prove a point to my brother that no matter how badly you treated me, I would still follow after you?" His tone was irate as he gnashed his teeth to keep what little patience he had left.

Mary tried to explain further "George, it was not deliberate, and I would never test you in such a way. I trusted you. You must believe me. I trusted my whole life to you, George. You are my life and I believed you felt the same about me. The thought that you would ever consider adultery never crossed my mind. I've been living in absolute fear of my life, George, for Peter said he was going to come over and steal me away. Not dance me off to the lord mayor's ball, but actually kidnap me, rape me, kill our children if he had to just to have me all to himself."

But George just raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. "In a letter he told you this?" Mary nodded her head quickly, "And let me see, that letter went into the fireplace instead of my hands. How convenient. He threatens to kill our children and you burn the proof of his menace. So now not only are you deliberate in your misdeeds, you are a liar as well. You expect me to believe my brother Peter capable of doing such things?"

Mary watched her husband as he shook his head back and forth so forcefully it looked as if any moment it would pop off.

"George, Peter took you away from me after we vowed to be as one forever. Yes, I think he is capable of those things. Yes, I have seen his malice for myself. You'd be sorry if you came home after what I have just informed you of and found me missing after I warned you of his threats, would you not?"

"The only thing I will ever be sorry about, Mary, is that your neglect and constant hiding of the truth about Peter left me no other choice than to take another lover. I think you liked receiving his affections and his letters, probably made you feel exceptional to still have an admirer after all these years."

Mary clutched to his arm, and, with tears in her eyes, pleaded with him one final time before she would accept the end, "George, we were married in the eyes of God, and I hold those vows in the highest regard! I have never been unfaithful to you, and there has never been anything anyone could have done to me or for me, including you, that would make me take another. He came, George, I had to beat him off with my hands! You must believe me. You and I took sacred vows to protect one another; I protected you as best I could, that included burning his letters. Either you'd be dead or he would be, maybe both, if you had seen what he had written. Do you think I want to see you murdered, do you think I want to see you called a murderer? I know I was wrong, and went about in the worst possible way. But please, I told you I would rather cut my heart from my own chest than offend yours."

With a nasty sneer, George stood, readying himself to leave without her, and retorted, "Protect me? You fed me to the lions! I took the same vows you did, Mary, and after living with you these past few years, I must admit some of those vows should be broken, no matter what was promised to God and to each other. As far as I'm concerned, my heart is indeed offended, so go ahead, Mary, prove to me your undying love and loyalty, cut your heart out."

Mary rose as well and grabbed George by the arm, catching him before he stalked off, "I never fed you to the lion, George."

"Go to hell, Mary," George told her bluntly.

Now God was still watching, and George could say whatever he wanted in the Darling house, but not in His. So he sent George a message, a point to be received in Mary's favor that her husband would never forget, not as long as he lived on. The priest and his assistant rolled a coffin down to the front that must have been crafted from the finest wood the carpenter had to offer. A man dressed head to toe in black, a number of years younger than George, followed after them crushed in his sorrow. As the coffin sat in its resting place, the last place it would stand before being lowered into the ground, the man threw himself upon it and called after his wife who lay inside. "I'm truly sorry, my love, I am so sorry! Please forgive me my sins. Please forgive me for not saving you at a time you needed me the most. Forgive me for not telling you one last time how much I love you. Forgive me for leaving you defenseless! Forgive me, my love, hear me in heaven!" He wailed in agony that echoed through the church. "Oh God have mercy on me a sinner! God in heaven, have mercy on me a sinner!"

The priest strolled by shaking his head back to Mr. and Mrs. Darling, and inquired if they would be staying for the funeral mass for it would not be starting for a few hours. "Oh dear, what happened to that poor man?" Mary asked, retaking her seat as now the undertaker was forced to stop the man from opening the casket and climbing inside.

"They were a very young couple, newly married with no children. Their home was robbed and his wife was raped and murdered by her assailant while he was away on business. It was all over the papers. She was dead for days before he found her. Apparently they quarreled before he left, and the guilt of his actions against her unresolved have consumed him."

There, in the deepest darkest crevices of George's mind, the light of truth finally shone in and presented him with all encompassing white. As Mary and the priest chatted on about the crime and the funeral to follow, George held his stare to the coffin. The widower charged the casket, knocking the lid open, and there, resting inside was not the dearly departed wife of the young man, but Mary Elizabeth Darling dressed in heavenly white. Upon her head she wore a crown of pink roses. In one hand she held a dagger and in the other, she held her heart, broken and bleeding. She had her eyes closed as she lay there dying, but still she managed her last words to her husband forever, "my heart offended you, George, and so I have cut it from my chest....for you..." So shocked was George, he spun about to gaze down at his own wife, safely sitting at his side, still deep in conversation with the pastor.

At that exact moment George recognized himself as the sinner, and not the young man now a widower. He held tightly to Mary's hand to gain her attention from the scene before them as he sat down. The priest parted Mr. And Mrs. Darling with, "In love, most couples never know when the last words will be spoken, leaving the one behind in silence forever. That is why we should not only speak with compassion, but listen with understanding and appreciation for the time with have been blessed with on this earth."

Mary turned to face her husband of nineteen years and with her looking at him he said, "You trusted me with your heart and your life and I failed you. I know it was not a test; for my words alone led you to believe what I said was the truth and no further proof to you was needed. The fact that you were wrong about your own husband, whom you spent the greater part of your life with, has broken your heart. My promises, Mary, my broken promises broke your blessed heart and not only made me a deaf, dumb and blind, but a liar and a cheater."

She held his hand just as firmly, he fixing his spectacles on his face, wiping his brow, trying to be strong and valiant with enough courage to look his wife in the face, he continued, "I was untrustworthy of your love, and stole from you the solitude of my affections. For all of that I am sorry. I'm also sorry for taking another to bed and breaking my wedding vows. I lied yesterday, there were no others, Mary that you are not already aware of, and the pain that I feel for injecting that misconception, and shadowing your mind is unbearable to me. I'm sorry for my brother's advances, and I'm sorry for the torment you endured from him as well as myself all these years. I'm sorry I defiled our house, the place you feel most protected, in my atrocious endeavor to make you jealous. I was the one testing you, to see how much you truly loved me and to see if you would chase after me and win back my heart, which was, after all, always yours. Your words of continued commitment to me every night when we retired alone should have been enough. But I was stupid, greedy and selfish. I'm sorry for sharing my life with a woman unworthy of such an honor, and I'm sorry for making you think she could hold a candle to your beauty, kindness, and your decency. I'm sorry for accusing you for things I know are untrue, things I said only in anger, like you wanting to receive my brother's letters. I am sorry I called you a whore, for that shall be my title from now on. I am sorry I spilled punch on your dress. I am sorry I didn't buy you pretty things, and I am sorry I didn't let you spend our money freely all these years. You were right that night long ago; you are overworked and underpaid for your profession. I am sorry that I made you stand alone, defenseless in the world. I am sorry for all my other sins countless in number that I've committed against you since the moment we met. And I'm sorry for insulting God in His own house and telling Him and you that the promises we make before Him deserve to be broken, because I swear on my life and the life of my children I didn't mean that, either. Please don't cut your heart out, for without it, mine will not beat either. Your sin was a small one, mine was the greater, and I beseech you to forgive me because I love you more than I love myself."

Mary looked to her husband, and with her eyes that told him everything words could never say, she said, "I forgive you George, and I'm sorry, too. I should have told you everything. We promised a long time ago not to keep secrets from one another, but I always try to protect you and everyone else I love. I don't want anyone to ever break your heart or make you think you are not worthy to be called a gentleman. You are a good husband and a good father, and I love you, George Darling, more than I love anyone else in the world, including myself. I said many things in anger, too, that I did not mean. It hurts me incessantly that I did not make enough room for you in my life when you needed me. And I am sorry for all my sins against you that are also countless in number, from before we met." They both stood after saying a prayer for the couple that death had parted, and just before they left the church, Mary had to clarify one last detail to her husband.

"George, I never fed you to the lion," Mary repeated staring straight ahead.

George stopped Mary and held both her hands to his heart. He had no idea what she meant, but concurred with her nonetheless for the sincerity in her voice spoke of another truth unknown to him at the time. "I know Mary."

They walked slowly home holding hands, taking a detour through the park. Where they first kissed, on that very bench, George gave Mary her kiss. So long had it been since it had been placed there in the corner of her mouth, she kept her finger upon it the rest of the way home to make sure it didn't flee or fall off.

As they reached their front door, George offered one more olive branch to Mary who remained silent, trying to erase the woes of her mind. "I want you to know that when I came to your window on your -- on our wedding day, and you did not seem so willing to be rescued, I wanted to climb the rose trellis and forcefully carry you down. I was afraid if you kicked and screamed you would cause us both to fall and I wouldn't be able to save you. So, I decided I was going to kidnap you from the church, that is where I was heading when you threw down your suitcase..."

Mary smiled and leaned her head into his, interrupting his reverse of mouth, trying to take back the sentiment said at a time of anger when it was not meant. "Promise me George that the rest of our years together will be happy ones and full of love with only mild disappoints of unforeseeable errors not done intentionally and easily forgiven."

"I promise and I give me my word for what its worth. Please don't forget me when I burn in hell, Mary, after death parts us and pray for me when you are in heaven."

Mary touched her hands to his face and then pulled him to her embrace. "I told you, George, I would never let you burn. I will enter into hell and retrieve you with an army of angels if I have to. Although after today I don't think that will be necessary. God is compassionate and magnanimous to those who ask for forgiveness, and if I can pardon your sins, He can too. Even still, if you are sent to Satan without absolution, God in his grandeur could not keep me from you."

God was listening and He concurred, with no need to keep Mary from George, or them from their family, God smiled from ear to ear and then went off to handle other matters in need of resolution.

The Darling house was full of people, all waiting for George and Mary with anticipation. They entered, both happy to find reconciliation with each other, and the children were thankful and led their parents up the stairs to their room. "You are to dress in your nightclothes and get into bed. We have a special surprise for you." A most unusual request as it was already the middle of the afternoon, but they complied just the same, and only moments later, Wendy knocked and asked for admittance. She was granted it and she came in followed by John carrying a tray of fresh muffins, tea and all the fixings. "Breakfast in bed. A very romantic idea I read about in one of my novels." The children left their parents to their meal and to their make-up and cleared out the house to give them privacy. "Alright everyone, let's go to Uncle Harry's and clean up his dump, as mother calls it."

After the delicious breakfast, George peeked down the stairs to make sure the house was empty. He returned to Mary who was waiting very naked under the blankets. As George began his seduction by kissing her neck Mary asked, "George was that girl a better lover, I mean, did she do things to you that you liked that I don't do? You said I was lacking in certain measures, what measures?"

George stopped and swallowed hard and then answered, "No, and please don't ask me anymore questions about it, because I have already forgotten. And Mary, I just said what I said because I was angry, you are the finest lover in all of London." He kissed down her body to her womanhood and began his work. Mary could not hold her tongue as hard as she tried and images of George doing the exact same thing with another woman raced through her mind.

"George what was it like with two women?" Seeing no way around it, with no way to aid her in alleviating her despair, and feeling now honesty was the best policy no matter what her father said, he pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. Giving Mary his full attention, he began...


	34. Chapter 34 The Finest Lover in all of L...

Rated R: Discussion of a Sexual Nature

_Author's Note: Please bear with me through this chapter, but there are certain details that needed to be explained..._

My Darling Love

Chapter 34 – The Finest Lover in All of London

"_The best love affairs are those we never had."_

_-Norman Lindsay_

"I never was with two women at the same time, well at least not alone. On the day in question, it was their idea, and their idea to do it in our parlor with you gone for the day. I was too afraid of being caught, and quite uncomfortable with what they had in mind. It's a lot of pressure for a man like myself in that way, and really a rather unpleasant proposal if you ask me. I didn't even have to lie, for there was no way I could perform under such circumstances, and so they pleasured themselves and made me watch. Please don't ask me what they did, because I kept my eyes closed and tried to keep from getting sick. I never knew you found Peter's wife here, she said nothing when she met up with us later in the evening.

"She used the washroom when they were done and I was quite anxious to leave, so I just ran out with Vivian and told her aunt to catch up. You must believe me that not in a million years did I want to bring that into our home, let alone have you find any of us here. But then I saw the rug changed when I arrived home later and waited for the confrontation that never came." George exhaled out and lowered his head, "Mary," he scrunched his face, almost in terror to ask, but he had to, "What did she tell you happened?"

"I came in the door and she was lying on the rug nude, George, she really didn't have to tell me anything." Mary suddenly pulled the blankets up over her head and continued, sounding almost squeaky in her tone even muffled below the covers, "She told me you were a rather adventurous lover."

George waited several tense moments, but that was it. "That's all she said?" he queried, gently moving the blankets to see her face.

"Do I have to repeat it, George? If you said nothing happened, I'll take your word."

Curiosity killed the cat, but George was braver and more skilled in his astute resolve at discovery, gently he asked, "Yes, Mary, we are to be honest with one another now, and since it was spoken about me, I want to know. What did she say?"

George really shouldn't have pressed, for Mary got up and ran to the bathroom, tossing her half digested breakfast-in-bed into the toilet. Mary soon returned with fresh breath, brushing her teeth like the lady she was. She did not sit back down only held her hands over her eyes as she finally recounted.

"She told me you bent them both over on the sofa and switched back and forth between them. Then when you finished, you let them both taste you. You watched as they, well, George, did their own business and you participated again by, oh God give me strength..." Mary sat down suddenly on the bed, now breathless, needing a moment to compose herself before giving the last details. "I am not sure how to say this, but Peter's wife suspected you were surely a fairy for what you asked her to do to you." Mary raised her eyes to George, who was watching her. Seeing he was clueless to her hint, she blurted, "While you were being intimate with Vivian, you told Peter's wife to stick her forefinger in your arse."

George stared at his wife for one full minute. Mary was sure of the time, for she counted each second. She reached sixty, and it was George's turn now, for he got sick all over his clothes, the bed, the floor and Mary as well.

They were both covered from head to toe in vomit, and had to laugh, for that was the only thing that left for them to do, so they did. They laughed together all the way to the washroom, while Mary ran George a bath and cleaned up the bedroom as he soaked. They laughed and joked about the ridiculous absurdity such a thing was.

The tub was drained and as Mary wiped it clean, ran more water and climbed in herself, they still laughed. "How foolish it is, George, not something a proper gentleman would ever allow!" Mary commented, and George's laughter ceased.

His silence said it all, and Mary, dumbfounded beyond all innocent understanding, began to cry. As experienced in womanhood as she thought she was, this revelation brought her to tears. "I'll make you some tea to calm your stomach," George offered and fled downstairs to the kitchen. Mary cried for an hour in that tub, she sat in it until the water was chilled, all the while, George hid by the stove, watching over a steaming teakettle.

George gathered his nerve and came up the stairs carrying two cups of piping hot tea to his bedroom, finding Mary holding the blankets clutched to her neck. George could tell by her expression she had more questions and he nodded his head with a look of distress and she spoke, "Are you a fairy, George?"

George was aghast, not at all the line of interrogation he'd imagined while in the kitchen, his reply to that was simple, "Well no, Mary, not at all."

"You were with two women and someone else, you said? Another man? I have no idea what that could mean except the obvious?"

George reaffixed his spectacles, knowing this would take awhile. "Yes, but before I explain the situation further, I really have to throw up again." He fled from the room after handing her two teacups with his hand on his mouth, and hacked into the washroom sink. He rushed back in quickly and sat down beside her. With his eyes shut tight he repeated quickly and without taking a breath, "Before I go any further, everything Peter's wife said was completely false. As far as all of us together, that was some time before the start of the affair. I had at Peter's wife, and he had at Vivian while we were all in the same room at the hotel. I couldn't really perform then, either, and she made fun of me for losing my erection. Then we switched back to the other's lover, and, because I was thinking of you -- and you must believe me that I was -- I was able to finish." Before Mary could utter a word of response, he fled back to the bathroom for more heaving.

George slowly peeked into their room to see Mary's expression before he entered, he expected the worst, but found her no worse for the wear. "George, no need to make yourself sick with unease. I just want to understand what drew you to her and away from me. Please help me understand, so I can accept it and change the parts of me that need changing."

He told her she need not change anything. He conceded that he was jealous of all the attention she gave the children, and understood all of her reasons. His acceptance and forgiveness in her small accidental wrongs were easier to attain.

Mary regarded him with understanding. "You told me you were unhappy and I did nothing. You said last night, we should just not move on without resolving everything that brought us to this place. You are right; we should do it and we will do it together. You should be honest and not afraid your words will hurt, for sometimes the truth needs to hurts."

George nodded and rested back on the bed. He was aware of her delicate nature, aware that the dents he'd made upon her armor must be mended. "Ask me anything and I will give you the honest answer."

"Would you like a finger in your arse, George?"

George was in mid sip of his tea, and spouted it out all over his wife, once again causing her to laugh aloud. George was not amused, in fact, quite humiliated and he rested his head on the bed and began to cry.

"George, I wasn't laughing at you. Just the tea." Mary bent over her husband and hugged him tightly to her. "If you don't want to tell me, that's alright, but if is something you enjoy and you want me to do that to you, I guess I could try."

George perked his head up and quietly responded in all seriousness, "No, Mary, I would rather you not."

His wife giggled a little doing her best to contain the outright guffaw she wished to expel from her stomach, seeing his shocked expression. "Yes, George, my nails are far too long. I will cut them, George, and keep them short and dulled."

Mary looked down to her husband as she gave her declaration, proudly nodding her head to show him her earnestness. George touched her hands and smoothed them out over his own, "No, I like them long. Keep them long and feminine for me." He sat up and turned to her as he wiped his face, "Vivian was not as talented as you in your oral pleasures, therefore, I criticized her once when she was in the act. At the moment I was to finish, she did that to me."

Mary sat next to George, "Well, what happened?"

George shrugged his shoulders, "Nothing, I finished and told her never to do that to me again, and never to tell a soul she did it in the first place. There are things on a man's body that should never be touched by a woman, Mary, and that is one of them. I ask you kindly not to joke about it."

Mary finally understood, and she felt foolish for laughing, for it was not a funny story. It was an insult to a gentleman's sense of self, and her husband felt less a man for having his private matters invaded in that way. "George, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to attack your dignity. I always thought that you took pleasure in what you were doing with her. I didn't know, but I understand now and I will speak of it no more." Mary embraced George who sat stiff as a board, his body tensed from the suit of armor around him.

"There were plenty of other things she did that I didn't like," George whispered, giving Mary the opening to begin a new conversation in her favor, so she took it, "Like what George?"

George moved back and rested his head on his pillow, tugging Mary to follow suit. With her in place, he began, "She wasn't you, and she knew it, but still she always acted as if we were husband and wife. She was very needy, not an independent woman with her own mind. 'I like whatever you like, George,' she used to tell me all the time."

"Can I ask you something, George? I heard a lot of rumors and gossip, and they all said the same thing. When you were with her, you were seemed the happiest that anyone had ever seen you. You were all about the town with her on your arm, eating out, going shopping, and all the other things. Were you truly that happy?" Mary gazed at George, the moment of truth had come, and now he was to tell the truth or would surely burn in the fires of hell forever.

He shifted his head to his wife, who already had tears filling her beautiful eyes ready at a moment's notice to flood down her face. "When would I have had the time to be so happy? I only saw her during the week, Tuesdays we ate dinner together, and everything that was to transpire, such as gift giving and, well Mary, times of intimacy usually took place then. We had lunch together maybe twice a week, usually on Tuesday, planning for the evening and Mondays for she was eager to hear of my weekend. We met on Friday mornings because she insisted she see me to wish me well on the weekend, and because she had not seen me all week as well. I did not mind her company, and at the time I will admit I looked forward to seeing her for she showered with me with attention, like a little puppy who waits at the front door for its master all day. Which is also why I gave her gifts and sent her flowers, I felt sorry for her, for she always complained she was lonely and unloved. But I would not say I was that happy when I was with her, more so just mildly content."

Mary reared her head back and glared at George, "What of the parties and dinners and her being at your beck and call, George? And the living room, and the hotel room with Peter and his wife, and the chocolate covered strawberries, and the dressing room at the boutique and in the bushes in the park and in the cemetery on your father's headstone?" Mary's voice was very hostile, and she rose from the bed, yanking her robe off the chair fitting it on.

"My father's headstone? Bushes in the park? What are you talking about, Mary? Have you gone mad?" George's eyes bulged from his head and he jumped up to block Mary's exit from their room.

"You were with her intimately plenty more times than just on Tuesdays George, you told me yourself. Why are you lying, you told me we are to be honest, and still you will not give me the truth?" Mary had her robe on and she shoved her husband as hard as she could, but George, already fully suited in steel, he did not budge.

"I told you we were intimate in that way on occasion, not every single time we were together, or every Tuesday evening for the matter. In fact, Mary, I told you it was more than we were having only because it was. From Christmas to that night with Michael we had not made love once."

Mary continued to push her way past him. "Well how many times then, George? Shall I count?" George stepped back and with all his might pushed Mary back into the room causing her to land on her fanny.

"Sorry, Mary," he said, as she was up and to the door he had just shut once more trying to leave. Still in her way he replied, "You want to count? How would you know? You were not there. I was there and frankly, fine, Mary, I have nothing to hide. The first time when we met, the time with Peter's wife, four maybe five times after dinner on Tuesday, the one time in our living room, although I can hardly count that because I just watched, once, twice," he actually counted on his fingers, "three, four, no three, but no more than four times, no I'm sure it was only three times on a Friday mornings. So that's one plus the one is two, add the five is seven, add the one is, no I'm not adding that one is still seven, and then add the three is ten. I committed adultery ten times Mary."

"Liar! You are a liar George!" Mary slapped George in his chest; now struggling with whatever strength she could muster to move past him.

"What did you think I was doing with her, Mary, just having sex? I never even considered my greatest sin being intimate with her, I thought that sharing the part of myself that was yours you were talking about was the part that sat at the kitchen table after supper and kept company with you. I spoke to her of my life and shared my feelings with her, that is the worse sin, not a few lustful liaisons we shared, and then only to release the tension of her constant pleading."

Mary stopped struggling, and stepped back, "Are you telling me you only gave her your favor because she asked for it?" George nodded his head. "But only last night you said you made what you were doing obvious so I would find out."

"Aside from the receipts that I left in plain view and a few handkerchiefs and shirts I purposely dropped in the hamper for you to find, I didn't go around in public with her on my arm, Mary. The only time I was seen with her was in a place such as a restaurant or a park bench chatting. The other things we did together, we did behind closed doors and away from prying eyes. There were no chocolate covered strawberries. I'm allergic to strawberries, and the dressing room in a boutique? I never took her shopping."

"I think you are the one who has lost your mind, George? Did you not tell me she was at your beck and call?"

George nodded his head and clarified, "Yes, she always told me whenever I wanted to see her she would drop everything for us to be together."

Mary had one hand on the doorknob, the other on her hip, "I saw your name myself, almost everyday on the reservation lists of several restaurants, flowers came to this house signed in your hand, I saw the receipts and the bills."

George nodded toward Mary, "And you added the totals, believe me, Mary you could not live alone in a flat in the seedy part of London for a week on what I spent. If I was wining and dining her all over London, Mary, I would be in the poor house. I still have to pay all the expenses here and continue to invest into our savings. I did not steal one penny from this house, our children nor any of our other accounts. I used my own allowance."

Mary dipped her head to George as well, "The jewelry, the shawl, the perfume, the flowers..."

"The shawl I bought for you, an early birthday present, but she begged me for it, so I just gave it to her. The perfume as well, she told me she wanted to smell like you. Not exactly like you, more so she wanted to wear a proper fragrance for a lady as opposed to the strong scent she wore that made her smell like a prostitute, for that's what others had told her. The jewelry I did purchase for her, a simple set, she retrieved herself and improved upon from her own funds. The flowers were a simple bouquet of..."

Mary held her hand to George's mouth as dawn broke over her thoughts. "The flowers I received here at the house were grand arrangement of pink roses."

George spoke through her hand offering, "I would never give anyone but you pink roses, Mary. I sent her daisies."

Mary quickly moved from the doorway to her vanity. There within the top drawer where she kept her makeup brushes, she lifted a secret hidden compartment, crafted to conceal the most priceless possessions that not a soul knew existed up until that moment except herself. She removed a simple piece of her stationary covered in writing front to back with lists of dates and times. "Here, George." Mary handed it to him and he eagerly gave it a once over.

"What is this?" he asked, halfway through the first side.

"That is every day that I heard or saw mention of you or your name in passing. Whether it be a rumor, or a restaurant, George, it's there." George held the paper out in front of him and let it drift into the air to the floor. "Oh my God, Mary..." He clutched his chest and then bent at the waist falling to the floor. George was a writhing mess in agony crying out as if someone had just stabbed him in his heart. George gazed to where the paper landed by his face.

_March 16th – George at Benson's (lunch/ML)_

_March 16th - George at Holly Dove's (dinner/dancing/ML)_

_March 17th – George dress shopping (lunch/ML)_

_March 17th – George in Park/ML_

_March 17th – George's late night at bank – Finnegan's Pub (ML)_

_March 18th – George at Christine's breakfast _

_March 18th – George out all day with mistress – seen at La Blanche_

_March 19th – George at Finnegan's lunch/dress shopping_

The list went on from there. Every single day from mid January right through to Wendy's birthday listed something else, several items listed to one day and most days listed "ML."

"What does ML mean Mary?" George already knew the answer as Mary knelt down beside him and rubbed his head.

"Made love."

George rolled on his side and away from her, "What makes you think that was when it happened?"

Mary followed him and did her best to comfort him, for he was still in excruciating pain. "Because those days you were signed in as a guest in Peter's room at the hotel or elsewhere. I was not the only one watching; George, my father and Aunt Millicent and all her upper class friends had similar lists. After you were caught red handed, they turned theirs over to me and I compiled this one. A lunch reservation at one and then promptly at one thirty you were signed in as a guest somewhere."

George sat up and did his best to catch his breath. He glanced to his wife who was well composed. With all she had seen and experienced proven in her record keeping, George was sure she would be enraged at his betrayal. But still she looked to him as if she was expecting him to see the same thing she did. And as he went to speak in his defense and deny these allegations against him he realized, she had already spoken her accusations. She was no longer calling him a liar nor was she screaming at him like she had when they engaged in battle. Mary was waiting patiently for him to regain his vision and remove his blindfold.

"I have lunch at one, I never go any further than the café around the block, for it takes me ten minutes there and back total, leaving me half an hour to eat and ten minutes to use the lavatory when I return and another ten minutes to prepare for my afternoon work." George stood and went to his dresser to retrieve his pen. He circled every time the name of the café was listed, every Monday and Tuesday at one. He crossed off a few he circled, randomly explaining, "Business lunch...held over at a meeting...ate at my desk..."

Every lunch appointment that had a specific description of an event that took place after the time of 1:40 pm promptly, George slashed away, "When I leave for lunch I always return twenty minutes early, to assure I am never late."

George did the same for dinner and Friday mornings, "No I always made sure I was home promptly by nine on Tuesdays to see the children before they went to bed, and on Friday mornings, I made sure I was heading off to work by half past seven as not to be tardy to my station at the bank." He also laughed a little under Mary's watchful eye as he went. "I NEVER saw her on the weekends, they belong to my family ... I never even heard of this eatery Mary ... You and I were together on this very day, do you not remember taking John to get new spectacles? ... This day as well, we had to go see Michael's professor ... and this one too, we took Nana to be groomed."

Every so often, while examining Mary's hard work in keeping track of her husband's mysterious whereabouts he would query, "My father's headstone?" Mary shrugged her shoulders and replied, "A friend of the grocer's daughter said she saw you there, you know, George, in that way."

It was always a friend of someone's, or passing acquaintance of Mary who provided the locations which George scoffed as, "Rumors and gossip, probably made up." But there were things he could not explain away as falsehoods of the imagination or could he? "I never, Mary, not once ever signed in as guest of any Hotel. It is true that we did not always go to Peter's hotel, for sometimes it was too far with too little time, but just the same, I still used Peter's name when I registered. Nor did I ever take Vivian dress shopping. If I remember correctly, she did need a gown for a dinner party Peter was having and I stopped by the seamstress early in the morning and paid an account in advance for one simple gown. She bought several with shoes and these needless accessories, and I told her she would have to return them. I would not even allow Wendy to spend so much money and I always insist she be presented in the best. She pouted and my brother Peter told me he would pay the difference."

"Peter..." Mary repeated his name, realization again dawning. "George, is Peter allergic to strawberries?"

George shrugged his shoulders, "I don't think so, and he delights in them....dipped in chocolate."

George closed his eyes after removing his glasses and rubbed his face. Mary got up and extended her hand to help him rise as well. Instead of standing, he knelt and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You thought that I was doing all of this? I don't know if I should be sorry for making you think that, only reaffirming what's written on this paper by my words yesterday, or simply furious at you for thinking it possible at all."

Mary held him back and kissed his head, "Peter tortured me mercilessly, George, please do not be angry with me for thinking it possible. I knew you were unhappy with me, I knew I was purposely withholding my affections from you. I was punishing you for Paris. I'm sorry." George held her tighter, squeezing her to him with all his might. She nuzzled his head. "So it seems now that this was not at all what I thought it was, for in the end, Peter still wins."

"How so, Mary?" George asked as she withdrew from his embrace, picking up her list of interludes that never were.

"Because I don't know who you truly are anymore. For so long I thought you were someone else and treated you as such. Only to discover, you were the same person all along, or were you? I have so many questions that I fear there are no answers for." Mary stood by her bedroom window waiting for the knight in shining armor to ride up on his horse and save the day.

But the knight was not to make his entrance valiantly from the street, for he was already inside. George rested his head over her shoulder and offered, "Ask me anything, Mary, and I will tell you who I am."

She asked her questions and he answered them, one by one. The longer their discussion went on, the more relieved they both became, for it took place in a gentle tone now, without the accusations or lies, only complete and unrelenting understanding and acceptance. George was freed of his secrets, and now Mary again knew everything there was to know about her husband. And Mary was reassured that there was no way a comparison could be made between her and the French whore.

The last questions were for the both of them and had to be answered before the passion they were both eager to engage in could begin. "What will we tell the children?" he asked.

"So now our children are aware that you were an adulterer, no matter how brief or unimportant it was. And they saw me die a thousands deaths holding whatever it was I was feeling, anger, disappointment, sadness, slight, malice, whatever it is, inside of me. I don't ever want our children to think this is an acceptable way to live."

"Whether I chose to believe it, I am as my father made me. He beat my mother, and I hit you." Mary grabbed George's arm and hushed him, telling him that old wounds need not be opened to repair new ones, but George continued, because this was a significant fact that needed to be settled. "I always looked up to Peter, he was my hero. He had the best profession, plenty of money, and was well liked by all that knew him. He engaged in lurid behavior after he married that witch he calls a wife, and tempted me into it. I never knew he was a monster, Mary, or I would have never brought him around you, let alone our children. I thought it best to mimic his behavior and then people would think me the same as him. And I got just what I deserved. I swear I don't even know who he is anymore, and this is who I attempted to model myself after."

Mary rubbed George's back lovingly, he was not the only one burdened with the circumstances of birth and upbringing.

"My mother made me who I am, my father cheated on her all the time with many women and she accepted it without question. She ignored it and carried on without a word, even though I told her she was crazy to do so. And when you did the same thing, I acted just as she would have. With one difference. Unlike my mother, I have strength of mind and am very hard headed. I'll admit it is a dreadful combination, for when my dam breaks and the flood of rage begins, I can inflict quite a lot of pain before I realize my wrongdoing, as you are now fully aware. Luckily for me, you have a caring heart that repairs itself quickly."

It was a charming scene, George and Mary Darling sitting in their nightclothes in the late afternoon on their bed, chatting about their trouble with loving hearts, with no thought but each other and the ones dearest to them. "Well, if Wendy's husband ever strays, I'll just kill him. And if John or Michael ever cheat on their wives, well I'll just have to kill them, too," George offered, the valiant knight of the kingdom now returned.

His comment and stern expression made Mary giggle, "You can't kill our children, you'll be saying rosaries forever!" She hit him with her pillow and knocked his spectacles from his face. They both broke out into laughter, and then fell into each other's arms.

"I think we should tell them, that they know and have experienced enough to make a judgment for themselves on the importance of the wedding vows a husband and wife take, and why they take them in the first place. There is no choice involved in honoring them or not. Not that anything in a loving marriage should be considered a duty, more so a desire to always do what's best for your partner. There should be no secrets and no hiding. Think of all that could have been saved if I had just _said_ something," George said, shaking his head.

"Think of all that could have been saved, if I had just _done_ something, George. And I agree about the children, they are grown-ups now. Wendy wants to go to a writer's college in America, and I think she should, she's very talented. John is already going to University in the fall and will become a banker. Michael wants to enlist in the military as soon as he's able, although with his interest in history, I think he would do better to become a professor of the subject." Mary ran her fingers through George's hair and when she passed them down his face he caught sight of a few broken nails, filed shorter than the others and healing bruise that was much darker, he was sure, a few days earlier that he had failed to notice.

"From your meeting with Peter?" George queried.

"Yes, he stopped by and attempted to have his way with me on the sofa. I kicked him where it hurts a man most. And then I told him if he dare step foot in our house or anywhere near you again, I would kick him there until he was dead. He started kissing my feet and pulling on my skirt when he recovered and begged me to take him up to our room so he could show me what a real man felt like and teach me how to reach completion or some such nonsense, like all scoundrels do."

Mary pulled George up to hear her better, and her next statement made him chuckle. "Really, George, your brother must think me wicked. I told him, George, I did, however unladylike it is, that youhit the correct place on my womanhood every single solitary time we make love. And if you fail the first time, your manhood stands at attention again, waiting to go back up inside of me, that you were extremely well endowed in personal measure, and you have the only key that would ever unlock me. He was actually dumbfounded! Stunned silly to hear a lady such as myself speak of such things so frankly and without reserve."

"Your hand?" George held her hand that held the injury and kissed it.

"Oh yes, so then he called you impotent, because you refused to continue on with that girl. So I lost my temper and bashed him a good one and then he raised his hand to me..."

George hearing this rose from the bed with his hands on his hips and glared down at Mary. "Oh, don't worry, George, John came home that very moment, and he called for Uncle Peter to turn around, because you told him to never hit a man from the back. So Peter turned around and laughed at John, calling him a wimp like his father, and then John punched him in the jaw. He fell over like a ton a bricks and bled all over my new rug."

"Your nails, dearest?" George asked, afraid to know the answer. "Oh yes, I called a cab and then John and I assisted him into it. Wouldn't you know it, he was back an hour later wanting to challenge John to a duel using pistols! Can you imagine? Well, I told him that I'd warned him to never return to this house again, so I scratched the hell out of Peter's face and broke my nails. When that didn't work, I kicked him again where it hurts. I wanted to keep kicking him, but John pulled me off. Then our son kicked him out on his bum."

"And where was I when all this was going on?" George was shocked, and sat back down as Mary urged him to.

"That was the day Aunt Millicent needed an escort on the train from London to wherever it was Margaret hid. Remember? She got that anonymous letter that told of her location that very morning. Grandpa Joe couldn't go, so you took a day off of work to help her. I never allowed myself to be left alone so I kept John home from school that day while Grandpa Joe off on his own holiday."

"Margaret," was all George could manage.

"What ever of Margaret?" Mary watched George rise and begin to dress with a quizzical expression.

"I'll explain in the carriage to Millicent's" George threw Mary her dress and began to pull up his pants when he caught Mary's wanting gaze.

"Right now? Do we have to go right now?"

George stopped and smiled, as disappointed as she was. "Yes, we have to. I promise that tonight I will make it up to you, but before we put the past in the past, live in the present and look forward to the future, we have to rid ourselves of one last evil. Come on, Mary, get dressed."

To make sure she was not devastated and accepted his offer for a rain check on their passions, he threw her bloomers at her. They landed on her head and when she pulled them off, she stuck her tongue out at him. "Why are we going to see Millicent now?"

"If anyone can keep Peter safely out of our lives forever, it will be your Aunt Millicent. You trust me don't you, please say you do."

"Yes George I trust you."


	35. Chapter 35 The King in Check

My Darling Love

Chapter 35 – The King in Check

"_It is far easier to make war than to make peace."_

_-Georges Clemenceau_

Before Mr. and Mrs. George Darling departed from their small comfortable home to the extravagance of the Davis Manor, George pushed Mary down on the bed and climbed on top of her. He straddled her waist, while holding her hands down he commanded, "Mary Elizabeth Darling, before you move from this spot you are to kiss me on the lips and tell you love me." Mary complied, and with George's defenses down as she engaged him in a passionate embrace, she flipped him over and onto his back on the bed. He was not wearing his shirt, only his trousers, therefore being already half naked, Mary took advantage of the situation and gently eased down his zipper, releasing the bulge hidden within, and it stood erect and waiting. George broke their kiss and looked sternly at his wife who was literally caught with her hand in his cookie jar. "Just one quickie, George?" Mary asked looking as innocent as possible. It was not a quickie, more so a full-fledged lovemaking sensation that left them both panting for air drenched in sweat.

"We are not coming home tonight, George, you better make arrangements for us to be alone elsewhere," Mary demanded as they got dressed, and George complied. With their carpetbag packed for their adventure, they hailed a carriage and were off.

They didn't get far, for they came across the whole lot of Darlings and Davis' heading back to the Darling house covered in dirt head to toe. "What have you been doing?" Mary asked as she stepped from the carriage, followed by George, to the disheveled group before her.

Millicent spoke for the entire group. "We went to Harold's and cleaned his flat from top to bottom. It's bright as a new penny, and George can move back in as soon as he's ready. I'll even have my butler help him pack his bags. I think you're crazy to begin with for bringing him back into your house, Joseph, just asking for more trouble. And Mary Elizabeth, once he is gone, you shall divorce him swiftly. I have already spoken with my attorney, and he has drawn up the papers and is quite ready to wage war with this thing you think worthy to call your husband. A lesson well learned on that, I should say," Aunt Millicent instructed, she just as filthy as the others.

"Why, Aunt Millicent, George is not leaving. He is to stay in his home with his family. We would never get divorced, quite the contrary, we have reconciled."

Aunt Millicent's face went white, then puce, and her eyes seemed to bulge from her head. She screeched at her niece so loudly that even Grandpa Joe had to cover his ears, "After all that man has done to you, Mary Elizabeth! If you let that depraved cretin live in your house with your innocent babies, I will call the constable myself to have him arrested for rape and robbing the virtue of a child!" Millicent covered her own daughter, Margaret's ears as she shouted and then slapped George across the cheek. "You should be ashamed of yourself, George Darling, and I will see you rot in prison before you return to the house your children reside in."

Millicent released Margaret, who looked about to the Darling children, all with muddy faces from scrubbing and scouring their uncle's "dump." Margaret was still as pretty as a picture, for Millicent would not let her lift a finger. Wendy sidestepped away from Margaret, as did John and Michael. George kept his head high after Millicent's assault, shocked by her actions. Grandpa Joe moved alongside his daughter and held her hand.

Mary jerked back as Millicent lovingly touched her face, "Mary Elizabeth, you know how much I love you and have always tried to protect you. Now I see that you are completely blinded by George's deceit, he has masked his true identity from you. Mary Elizabeth, he is a monster." Millicent moved in closer and whispered in her niece's reluctant ear, "If I were you dearest, Mary, I would worry that, in the night while you sleep, George might sneak into the attic and well dearest sweet Mary, you know what I mean..."

Millicent caught herself, as if she was either on the verge of tears or nausea and, without describing the middle, or whatever it was Mary should be afraid of, she ended rather loudly turning her attention to Mary's daughter with, "If he hasn't all ready. Perhaps that is why there are such horrid rumors spreading around about her spoiled virtue. Poor dearest Gwendolyn..."

Mary had no idea what her aunt could mean, but George and Grandpa Joe did, and both grew livid at the horrendous accusation. "That girl, Peter's niece, was of age, Millicent Baker Davis, and of no relation to him! You ought to be ashamed to say something like that. His own daughter! I think you are the one who has gone insane!" Grandpa Joe shouted, as Wendy went to her mother and held onto her for protection.

"Oh no, Joseph, it is not the French tramp I speak of, although I heard myself she was barely of age." Aunt Millicent smiled pityingly at them both for being so naïve, and as she looked past them, she saw the boys, and felt it her duty to shield them as well. "I had not thought of your sons, but I hear from my daughter that men who delight in such pleasures also like young men fresh from puberty as well." Instead of heeding Aunt Millicent's safeguard John and Michael now moved beside their father, "Oh, I see, Mary Elizabeth. It is already too late for them. Either they get pleasure from it or George has already educated them in his revolting and abhorrent acts.

The fire that burned inside Mary now flared without warning, and the rage that poured from her heart would not be contained. A wicked and evil witch she hid deep in her proper lady-hood now stepped forward, pushing Wendy behind her and out of the way. Mary wasted no time lunging forward on Margaret, grabbing her red locks in her left hand while dragging her to the ground. With what nails she had left on her right hand, she began scratching brutally in an attempt to claw the young lady's eyes out, "I'LL KILL HER!" Mary screamed, "YOU BITCH, I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR HAIR OUT AND GOUGE YOUR EYES OUT BEFORE I'M DONE WITH YOU!"

No one was prepared for Mary's attack and no one would have thought it possible. Therefore, unaware how physically powerful Mary could be when that enraged, it took all of George's strength to pull his wife from Millicent's daughter. As he did, Mary made sure she took with her a large clump of Margaret's hair with her and still she continued to scream, "If I had a knife I would cut your tongue out, you stinking liar! I'LL KILL HER GEORGE! LET ME GO! LET ME HAVE AT HER!"

George was the only one restraining Mary, and Aunt Millicent, always the dragon of the castle, still endeavored to attack George. She jumped on his back and began beating him on the head with her purse. "I know you fathered my daughter's bastard child, I know it! I saw the child myself, and as I stand here today I swear before God almighty that it was yours! YOU ARE A SICK MAN, GEORGE DARLING, AND I'LL HAVE YOU COMMITTED! CHILDREN, RUN AND HIDE FOR I HAVE CAPTURED THE BOOGIE MONSTER!"

Grandpa Joe and Harold ended up in a jumbled mess, trying to separate Millicent and George, rolling around on the street as Millicent attempted to arrest George herself. Mary, released in the havoc, stood face to face with Margaret, her glare to Millicent's wayward daughter was terrifying enough to intimidate and terrify the poor girl. But before Mary could continue her assault, John, Michael and Wendy went for Margaret's throat. Mary had to yank each one of her children off before slapping and -- again -- clawing at Margaret herself, still screaming and calling her names. Mary was quick and relentless in making good on her promise to kill the "bitch." In a swift step, she took her place behind Margaret and wrapped her arm about young lady's neck, jerking it back as hard as she could to cut off Margaret's air. Wendy ended that. "MOTHER!" she screamed while running at full speed to shove her mother to the ground.

The only way to end the brawl that had erupted on the street in broad daylight was to have a constable come and divide everyone. Of course, with the law there, and the fear that even more gossip would be spread, no one said anything, and they were all dismissed to their homes, except one. Poor George Darling was taken away in the paddy wagon to the local jail. "Charge him with kidnapping and raping my daughter and molesting his own children. He is an adulterer. Ask his wife. She threw him out of the house for it. He also has been known to strike her on occasion..."

At the station house, in the privacy of the chief constable's office, free from prying eyes and ears, Aunt Millicent spoke a mile a minute. "He is a very jealous man who has been known to brutally punish his wife. There are several occasions I am aware of. The worst were when he accused her of bringing other men into the home when he was at work. Now, you know what I mean when I say brutal. He had no proof, only his foolish imagination, and the fact is she is a loyal, devoted, and loving wife and those allegations against her could not be farther from the truth! His wife is a saint!"

The chief had an idea of what "brutal" meant, "Oh, so you are telling me he beats her bad then?"

Millicent did not want him misunderstanding her words, so she clarified after leaning in over the desk in his office whispering, "Oh yes he beat her, Sir. But far worse," she moved in closer, "he's raped her many times to teach her a lesson that she belongs to him and him alone. She is a lovely delicate creature, undeserving of such disrespect ... You can imagine her shame, being defiled in such a heinous manner by her own husband repeatedly, for years. I am the only one aware that those things happened in their marriage, as she herself told me in the strictest of confidences." Millicent was so agitated by the events of the afternoon, when recounting the crimes of her memories, she now confused George and Mary Darling with Joseph and Elizabeth Baker.

"He would not let her buy their children clothes, so she had steal money from him, that ended in another beating that left her bedridden for days." Not even close, but she was obviously a little unclear on the details as she grew on in years.

"He committed adultery with underage girls. He has been having at my daughter since she was a small child. Thank God I took her in when I did. Officer, he fathered a child by her that my niece Mary knows nothing about. He often speaks of his daughter Gwendolyn, in the most inappropriate manner to his gentleman friends. I have it on the best authority that he has already deflowered her himself, feeling no other man worthy of her, against her will. Oh goodness, to think all this time my poor Mary Elizabeth has been living with a rapist!" They were bald face fabrications, but to Aunt Millicent, misled by the devil and his helpers, they were the word of God, and she even told the constable that, "These are the words of God Himself, my good man."

God looked down and laughed, quite amused, for the devil can quote chapter and verse from the Scripture if need be. Therefore, He moved His all-seeing eyes to George and nodded his head, granting him the mercy and salvation he prayed for in his cell. As Mary had promised George, with an army of angels, she blasted into the hell where her husband waited and defeated the devils that trapped him there.

"My husband is a proper gentleman in every sense of the word, and I don't care what that woman accuses him of. These are his children; ask them yourself if you don't believe me. I have also brought my brother-in-law with me as well as our neighbors, and if you need further witnesses, I can have the entire congregation of our church here in this station in an hour's time. And that includes the all of the priests, every single nun and even the Bishop, Sir." Mary was led into a separate room to give her statement, more so her declaration of her husband's innocence.

First and foremost, "WHAT!" Mary shouted, nearly fainting. The constable had just informed her as she took her seat at his desk, that George Darling, being husband and provider, had all rights within the law to take his wife to bed, even if it was against her will, ending with, "I am sorry, though, that a lady such as yourself has been a victim of rape at the hands of your husband...I myself feel it is--" He never finished his sentiment. Mary had slid to the floor.

When she came to herself, she slapped the chief constable on the cheek and then apologized, "I'm sorry to raise my hand to an officer of the law, but you must be corrected for thinking my husband a rapist, whether he has the right to be or not. Believe me when I tell you, sir, my husband does not even have to ask for my company in his bed, it is his to have wherever and whenever he wants it, and I am more than willing to grant him any marital favor."

"Yes, he strayed to another woman, a consenting adult of a proper age, and there is hardly a man among you that has not done the same thing, and that is no one's business but our own ... It is his right as my husband to put me in my place, if need be, and the time she speaks of was at the insistence of his mother, who was just as misinformed as that woman who is causing all this unnecessary trouble ... My husband did not kidnap anyone, and I have a thousand alibis that will say the same ... I'll have you know, officer, that Millicent Davis should be arrested for kidnapping. Margaret was left in our care by her father, and she just dropped by one day and stole her away from us because she was lonely and in need of a ... a project..."

When the constable asked after their children, Mary didn't have to say anything in his defense only, "His own children? How dare you?" The river of rage from the dam that had broken in her heart poured hellfire from her eyes, down the front of her dress to her clenched fists that she beat on the desk where the constable sat.

Not wanting another slap, he interrupted her with, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Darling, I should not have even asked you such a loathsome question. I know George myself from the bank, and I know he could never be that sort of man. As soon as Mrs. Davis leaves with her daughter, we will let you take your husband home. We won't press any charges, Mrs. Darling. To tell you the truth, we didn't believe her anyway. She seems an old nagging biddy who's angry that her daughter's got herself in trouble and needed to blame someone."

George was released to Mary and the children. The few constables who were not so easily swayed by Mary's ringing endorsements received all the proof they needed when the Darling children knocked their own mother aside, racing into their father's arms.

"Father, we were so frightened -- did they hurt you?" Wendy cried.

"Are you sure you are alright father? Was it terribly awful?" John and Michael shouted over one another. Harry shook his brother's hand, and Mary was last seen kissing George on his cheek whispering, "I told you I would never let you burn, George."

They walked home, everyone embracing the others, with George in the middle talking, as families reunited often do. They were in the door when George heard a peculiar murmuring, as if someone was trying to scream but couldn't. "Whatever is that noise?"

Michael took his father into the living room where Grandpa Joe was bound and gagged to his favorite chair. "We had to, Father, he wanted to kill Aunt Millicent."

John was next to his father, almost seventeen, he now stood the same height as George and they looked more like twin brothers, than father and son. "It took all five of us to tackle him and keep him from leaving the house. We tried to barricade him in his room, but he was so angry he pushed right out. Mother was afraid to leave him unattended when we went to get you. We tied him up as best we could. Sorry, Grandpa, but it was for your own good."

George slowly approached his father-in-law and removed the gag from his mouth. "Finally, George! Let at me at her. I kill that beast with my bare hands. I'll reach into her chest and rip her heart out. I cut her limb from limb and then drown her in the toilet. I'll slash her throat and dump her dead body into the sewer where it belongs. No better yet, I'll dig a hole and throw her in and bury her alive!"

His disturbing words were frightening, not only to children, but to George also, and he felt it best to stuff the rag back in Grandpa Joe's mouth until he cooled off. "You shouldn't speak of your sister that way," George remonstrated, stepping back as Grandpa Joe began knocking about in the chair so hard it fell over.

"Goodness gracious, Father, calm yourself or you shall surely have an attack," Mary added as she strolled past him, handing George a cup of hot tea, giving little attention to her father raging about on the floor.

"Mary, I think we should do something with him. It is not safe for him to be tied up in such a way in our parlor."

For his safety and his age, they had to release him and he got up in one movement, like a young man of only twenty. He pulled the gag from his mouth himself and shouted, "I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT MY STUPID, IGNORANT, THICK, DENSE, SLOW, DIM-WITTED, BRAINLESS SISTER! I'M TALKING ABOUT THAT TRAMP SHE CALLS HER DAUGHTER!"

All the Darlings gathered in the parlor and looked on as Grandpa Joe stalked about like a caged animal looking for an escape. He stopped suddenly and peered at his family who had suffered so much before him. "I was there when Margaret birthed that child. Millicent left the baby in an orphanage in Paris, that's right George, Paris! That is where she ran off to when she fled my sister's home. It seems your brother was paying her visits at that expensive boarding school as well as in London while he was here. How they met, no one knows, but he was her lover nonetheless. When she told him of their child and attempted to rid herself of it, he tried to kill her. Then thinking better of it, he told her if she stole your pocket watch, another mystery, he would marry her and leave his wife."

"How do you know that?" Mary asked holding George by the arm.

"Should the children being hearing this Mary?" George asked while glancing about at their mouths gaped open.

She nodded. "They are grown now, and they have a right to hear grown up things such as these. It will teach them why adults need to live truthful lives with honor. They need to learn that the monsters they feared when they were children and told then not to worry about are, in fact, very real and walking the streets looking like ordinary people. Go on, Father."

"I know about this because that most unfortunate caretaker from the school she attended who still -- to this day -- sits in prison for crime he didn't commit, told me when I visited him. He found them together on the school grounds and told the headmaster. She went missing that day, but not before lying and telling her friends a concocted story of her love affair with him gone awry. And so, he was arrested and sent to jail. He didn't know the man and could not even give me a valid description, for when he was discovered, the other man took off running so as not to be recognized."

"But the watch, and Paris and child? How do you know all that?" George questioned him, indicating for his family to sit down and listen closely.

"No, George, send the children upstairs now, for this is too wicked in nature even for our own ears." The children, of course, did not want to leave, but they eventually obeyed. With the door to the nursery and the door to attic shut and them inside (Mary checked herself), Grandpa Joe continued.

"Millicent was summoned to Paris by the Parisian police when Margaret turned up on the street birthing the baby. Your brother -- you know him, George, Satan -- left her in the middle of a busy street to find her own way to the hospital. I traveled with Millicent there, and she made me sign off on the papers putting that child up for adoption so as to keep her name and that of Margaret's away from scandal. She told me if word ever reached London, I was to say it was your child George, with that whore you were having the affair with, and that I was doing you a favor."

Seeing the hint of a hidden truth shadow over Mary's face and tears well in her eyes, Grandpa Joe added. "I was there when Margaret pushed the child from her body, and it was Margaret's, not the whore's, Mary. From the midwife's hands to mine to the caretaker of the orphanage the baby went. The only hint of the father's identity I had at that time was that we were in Paris. The baby looked like any other child you see on the street, all red and puffy from crying. Only a day after delivering that baby, while staying at the hotel there so Margaret could recover and regain her figure, Peter and his wife paid us a visit on rumor from friends that we were in town. Now, NO ONE knew we were in town, Millicent saw to that. What does that tell you?"

George also took notice of Mary's expression and wrapped his arm around her and kissed her cheek. "Be strong my love, I'm here by your side," he whispered and Grandpa Joe continued.

"His wife was complaining of the time Peter spent there chatting alone with Margaret. She started screaming at him from across the room that they were to be late for dinner and he checked his pocket watch, and that's when I saw all the proof I needed to put it all together. He had George's watch, the one you gave him for Christmas Mary, with the inscription _'My one and only, Darling Love'_. I asked him about it and he stuttered about and said George gave it to him because he needed a watch. That made no sense at all, because I know George would never be parted from it, and that was one of the items I knew Margaret stole when she disappeared."

Grandpa Joe now sat on the sofa next to Uncle Harry and scratched his head. "So from then on after Margaret returned, I kept tabs on your brother Peter. Whenever he ventured to London, it always seemed Margaret would go astray for a few days. Millicent had no idea where she went but would not report her missing, because she still hoped to marry her off well to a rich gentleman. And then this very morning..." He paused and looked to his son-in-law, "when George brought her home, Mary, and I knew where he went, my suspicions were confirmed. So I told my sister everything I knew and she confronted Margaret right before we left Harold's."

"Is that what Margaret was crying about?" Uncle Harry asked.

Grandpa Joe nodded. "When I asked Millicent what her daughter had said in her defense, she put me off, and said she would do what needed to be done to rectify the situation. God only knows what that girl told my sister, but I'm sure you all can assume she figured out a way, and quickly at that, to turn it around on George who also unknowingly discovered the father of her baby's identity." Grandpa Joe exhaled deeply.

Her father sighed. "Mary, would you please make me some tea. I am very tired."

Mary was up in a moment, and the kettle was steaming soon thereafter. The children came downstairs at George's request and sat with their grandfather, and silence soon filled the house. On Uncle Harry's suggestion, Wendy sat down at the piano and played peaceful melodies to keep everyone's mind from drifting to dark places.

George went into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his wife. "I know what she said, I don't need anyone to tell me." He leaned his head on Mary's shoulder and pulled her closer in. "She said it was my child, she said she was meeting me, she said not only was I having my way with her but with that other woman as well. I know that's word for word what she said."

Mary tilted her head into his, "Did you know?"

George turned Mary about to face him, to see the genuineness in his eyes, "No, but I must admit, something that made no sense to me before makes perfect sense now." He pulled out a chair and led her to sit; he took the seat next to her and, in a whisper no one else would hear, he spoke, "Remember what I told you about the unpleasant experience his wife wanted me to try with her and Vivian?" Mary nodded. "Well, my brother had the same idea, but not two woman, two men. He said he knew of a girl that would we could share at the same time."

Mary needed no further explanation, and raised her hand to George's mouth. "Please, go no further. I get the idea. And you are thinking it was Margaret?"

He nodded, "Yes. The odd thing was I didn't even have to tell him I was not interested in such a thing, for he withdrew the offer as soon as he said it by saying he didn't trust me enough to hold my tongue." Mary and George both looked deeply into one another and saw the same thing the other did.

"I have to ask you George, what did his wife, Eve, think of all this?" She suddenly shook her head. "Never mind, I don't even care." Mary put her elbow in the table and rested her head in her hands. She was very tired; tired of the drama and stress, not only of the day but also of the years they spent together married. She closed her eyes and when she opened them and looked to George, she could see his need of acceptance and his desire for reassurance that she would be there for him, now, when he needed her most. "I'm not angry, just a little disheartened at all this. I don't blame you, I just wish..."

"What do you wish, Mary?" George leaned toward her to hear her better.

If one could look into Mary's heart and mind, it would be seen that she wished George were in no way, shape or form involved in any of this. She wished he could be just as naïve and ignorant about all the sordid details as she was. She wished she had never been neglectful, and she wished she had shown him the first letter his brother ever sent her. She wished she could run away and never have to be a grown up again. She wished the teakettle would whistle and she wished Wendy would stop playing the somber tune that Grandpa Joe said was his favorite. She wished she could go to sleep and awaken to a new day and start anew. She wished the bedtime fairy would visit her, and give sweet dreams instead of the nightmares she was growing accustomed to. Feeling all that was far too hurtful to tell George, she settled on, "I wish God would grant our family some serenity, and I wish we could go out to a nice restaurant and have a delicious dinner together, just the two of us."

George pulled his head back and raised his brow. "I can't speak for God, but as far as dinner, that is an easy wish to grant, dearest. When would you like to leave?"

Mary smiled at him, "Now."

Since George felt it not his place to speak on God's behalf, it left the Lord no choice but to speak for Himself. Mary rose as the teakettle whistled and Wendy's tune finally ended. "Please nothing depressing!" John shouted down the stairs to his sister as she started something more upbeat. Mary made the tea and served it along with a cool damp towel for her father's forehead. George already had his coat on and was helping Mary with hers when he said, "I am taking my wife dinner."

Wendy the storyteller ran into the front hall and called for her father's attention. "Just remember, Father, mother turns into a pumpkin at midnight."

George took his wife to an elegant restaurant and wined and dined her. They had a most enjoyable time and Mary was quite drunk when they left. Halfway home, she passed out from all the wine she'd consumed with dinner, and George was forced to throw her over his shoulder and carry her the rest of the way home. He blew in through the front door and declared, "Wendy, you mother turns into a pumpkin well before midnight!" No one laughed; instead they were lined up like soldiers waiting in the parlor for their parents to return.

Grandpa Joe walked up to his son-in-law and helped him lower Mary to the sofa, where two constables waiting arose to make room. "George," one of them said, "I am sorry to have to do this to you, but tonight you are under arrest and I have to take you back to the station."

Mary rolled over and off her bed onto the floor below. She had never laughed so hard in her life as she had at dinner with George. He told her off-color jokes he heard around the office, and once she was tipsy, she thought anything he said was funny. Now, she was thankful her head was attached to her shoulders, for it felt like it was going to fall off. It ached and throbbed, and from the floor she moaned, "George, help me..."

Wendy rolled over and looked at her mother sprawled on the floor, and had to giggle when Mary pulled herself up on the blankets and all her makeup smeared to one side of her face. Even after a few hours in her drunken slumber, Mary was still under the influence and she giggled, too. "Wendy, my dearest daughter, where's your father? Did he fall off the bed too? Is he on the other side? Does he need my help?"

Wendy went very serious, and Mary, seeing this tried to stand. "Wendy, what is it? Did something happen to your father?" Mary tried to be serious, but couldn't contain the chuckle that erupted. "Oh no, George escaped!" It was still dark outside, and Mary staggered to window and threw them open. "George!" she called out into the night. "Nope, not out there. Maybe he's hiding." Mary fell to the floor and crawled around, looking under the bed and in the wardrobe calling out his name. Grandpa Joe, hearing his daughter's slurred shouting came in without knocking.

"Now, Father, you know the rules, you have to knock." She was so intoxicated she reeked of the wine she drank, and pointed her finger accusingly at him. "Father, why are there two of you?"

Grandpa Joe lifted her back up and into the bed. "Wendy, you have to make sure she sleeps this off." He turned to Mary and shook her to stop her laughing at his stern disposition. "Mary Elizabeth, you are drunk. Now go to sleep!"

He left the room and descended the stairs, John was waiting for him at the door and before they left into the night, Grandpa Joe turned to his other grandson, "Michael, tonight, you are the man of the house. No one comes through this door, do you understand?"

Michael was ready to join her majesty's military as soon as he was old enough. Already a soldier at heart, he nodded and repeated the command, "Yes, sir. No one will come through that door. Not on my watch."

Upstairs, Mary cuddled next to Wendy and ran her fingers through the hair that fell over her pillow. "Such lovely hair, Wendy, I'm so jealous. It is the color of your father's." She sighed, remembering. "You know Gwendolyn Angelina, your father and I made the most passionate love the morning we created you ... like we would never touch one another again after the moment it ended ... I wished we could stay in that morning forever. Every single time I look at you ... I think of that wonderful morning and the man I love ..."

Wendy held her mother tightly; blinking back her tears, for in a few hours she would awake from her bliss and be smack in the middle of another nightmare. "Wendy darling, tell me a story."

Wendy smiled and thought about it. Then she kissed her mother's forehead and whispered, "Alright but you must first close your eyes." When she was sure he mother had complied, she began. "Once upon a time there was a was peasant named George and he loved a lovely queen named Mary..."


	36. Chapter 36 Checkmate

**WARNING: Content some may find offensive! Chapter 36 gives some gruesome details about child molestation.**

My Darling Love

Chapter 36 – Checkmate

"_Nobody speaks the truth when there is something they must have."_

_-Elizabeth Bowen_

Chess is the game of gentlemen.

The point of chess is simple. A player moves their pieces around so that no matter where their opposition moves their king, it will eventually get captured. It's all about capturing the king. And strategy is the most important part of the game. The ability to see the moves before they are played out, and the skill to anticipate what the opposition has planned before they know themselves are vital to a successful outcome.

In an attempt to win the game of chess, the queen becomes the most valuable piece. She can move as many spaces as she likes along a rank, file, or diagonal. Her entire purpose on the board is to defend her King. Now the king is similar to queen, but not the same, like all husbands, he is in no way as powerful as his wife. He can move in any direction, but only for one box. And if he is captured, the game is over. When the king is threatened, and on the verge of being defeated, this being a game of gentlemen, it's only polite to give a warning, and that warning is "check."

George Darling was now in check, and his only hope of not being captured, and the game of his life ending, lay in his wife, Mary, the Queen. The final move of the game neared; when the king cannot move nor be saved from capture, and the opposition would cry victoriously, "Checkmate." The next move, the most important in this game, was to keep George out of harm's way, and block him -- if necessary -- from being further ensnared into the web of lies and deceit spun so cunningly around him. And so, Mary's sole purpose on the morning when she awoke was to keep her king from checkmate.

Mary's first hint of trouble came that morning when she rolled over and found Wendy beside her. Even if George, being the gentleman that he was, still felt it honorable to sleep on the floor of Grandpa Joe's room as punishment, Wendy would be in her own room and not Mary's. She dressed quietly, then knocked on her father's door, finding not only George missing, but her father also. His bed was still made. The nursery was empty, for Michael remained on duty through the night, defending the castle by the front door. He was the first one to tell her what she had missed in her bliss.

"Right after you and father left, the constable came by and inquired after father. He spoke with Grandpa Joe for a very long time, and the conversation became rather loud and hostile. There were certain parts I think the neighbors down the street heard, but from what I can gather, Aunt Millicent and Margaret filed charges against father, saying he assaulted Margaret, sired her child, and then dumped them, Margaret and her baby both in Paris to get rid of them. Grandpa Joe was questioned about signing the papers, and he told the truth, but the Madam Caretaker from the orphanage wrote some sort of letter stating what Grandpa Joe told her originally when he signed over the baby. And Uncle Peter filed charges against father, too, for attempted murder and a rash of other charges. We had to tie Grandpa Joe back down in his chair last night in his fury. Uncle Harry went with father when he was taken away and Grandpa Joe and John left after they put you to bed. They also summoned an attorney for him. I heard the constable say Peter's wife will also testify and so will his mistress against father, as well as Aunt Millicent and Margaret. Mother, they are coming back to collect us for they say it is a danger for Wendy, John and me to remain at home with you! We are to be sent to Aunt Millicent's. The only reason they let us remain last night was because you were drunk and needed someone to look after you."

Mary sat on the sofa with an expression of disbelief. Being wife and mother, she was simply too scared to move. And then, as if turning on a switch from off to on, she rose quickly and, without her coat or hat, left the house. The queen -- or rather the wicked witch dressed in a queen's robe -- now took her place and began to move about the board in defense of the king. The only place she needed to go, she went, and it was her Aunt Millicent's house.

She knocked on the door and pushed past the butler when he answered, threatening him to tell no one of her presence, "I swear if you call the constable, I will have my father stop your salary and you will be out on the street with no good recommendation for your years of dedicated service to my Aunt. After all that woman, comfortably resting in her bed, has put you through, from dawn to dusk without one day off, consider my dealings here today against her and her daughter your bonus for Christmas."

The butler was not going to argue with her, nor would he call the constable, "I'll keep the other staff in the kitchen, Mrs. Darling," he replied and disappeared deep into the house, leaving Mary to her purpose. She ascended the stairs to the room that was once hers and yanked Margaret from her bed by her hair and held her mouth from screaming.

Mary held Margaret close and hissed in her ear, "Listen to me, you sinful and nasty liar, my husband saved you from a life of prostitution and abuse. He paid your father your weight in diamonds, without question, and freed you from the raping you received nightly from the man whose blood was the same as yours. If your sweet mother were alive, she would cut your tongue out of your mouth for all the mendacity you wreak on those she cared most about. My father was right about you, not one speck of Penny runs in you. You are all your father, you horrible, ungrateful wretch. I was with your mother when she died. I ached and cried for that woman, and I still to this day pray rosaries for her soul and the soul of your sibling who never saw daylight. My husband paid for her funeral, and then starved for a week after, because he had to use our grocery money to assure your mother's body and the innocent child she still held inside of her were not just dumped into a pauper's grave. You are a foul creature, unworthy of even the bathwater I washed your body in to rid you from the repulsive parasites that had sunk so deeply into your skin I had to burn them off. So if you think I will let you speak one untruth about my husband, a man who single handedly not only saved your life, but mine as well... My dear, I must warn you I will kill you right here on this spot where you lie."

Margaret at first fought, and then fell still. She was crying and clutched Mary's arm that was tight around her neck. "I will kill you, Margaret, every single promise I made to your mother on her deathbed I'll take back. I don't care if I burn in hell for all eternity, I will do whatever it takes to assure that my husband does not burn there with me. Tell me why you bear false witness against him."

Margaret shook her head and moved her hand over Mary's on her mouth. Mary released it just enough to let her speak, "I do not lie, your husband and I were lovers. He fathered my child..."

Her tone was rushed and Mary wasted no time in flipping Margaret to her back, amazing the poor girl with her surprising strength. Mary mounted Margaret's waist and began to choke her without mercy. She held her head up and banged it down hard on the polished wooden floor. Below the bedroom, the staff of Aunt Millicent's house raised their heads toward the ceiling, while lounging about drinking their tea. "Do you think that is Margaret's head or Millicent's?" a maid asked the butler.

"Margaret's." All present nodded in agreement and went back to there own leisures.

Back upstairs, Mary still held Margaret by the throat and now was in the processing of dragging her to the center of the room. "My husband would never lie down with something as spoiled and heinous as you."

Mary pulled Margaret up and held her, allowing her to breath. "I promised your mother as the last bit of her life was drained from her that no matter what kind of woman you became, if you ever sought me out and asked me for aid, I would do everything in my power to help you in your plight. Your mother is died in vain, and so does my promise." Mary forced her back down, and closed her hands firmly around the delicate skin that fell between Margaret's head and shoulders. "If you fight this death, I will suck the air out of your lungs myself, you disgusting little whore."

Margaret held Mary's arm, and as she readied to take her last breaths she began nodding to Mary with tears flooding down her face. There was no voice, just her mouth moving, "Please," repeated in silence over and over again.

Mary relinquished her grasp, but not before warning Margaret, in a tone that made Mary seem insane, "I have my knitting needles in my bag by your bedside table, if you waste one more moment of my time, and tell one more lie, I will drag you back there and will stab you in your throat. I will yank you by your hair from this room down the hall and two flights of stairs. There, I will leave you to bleed to death by the front door with no way to scream for help for Millicent is still fast asleep and the staff cares nothing of your condition."

Margaret nodded again and closed her eyes. Mary raised herself up and off and jerked Margaret forward.

Margaret was choking as she took in air, and began sobbing, leaning into her assailant for comfort. Mary was no mother to her, so she wrenched her by the hair and glared down at her with eyes that burned through the girl's soul, a girl young enough to be her own daughter. "Peter told me to. He told me we had to get rid of Mr. Darling or he'd spoil everything. I had to, I love him."

Mary let go of her hair and hauled her up onto the bed.

"Start at the beginning, Margaret. I want to know everything, from where you met Peter, to why my husband now sits in jail, innocent of all the crimes is accused of. Do not try to trick me, for I am far cleverer than you can imagine. Not even your lover, Peter, knows of my limitless resources. Do leave out one detail, for I will make good on my promise..." To prove her words true, Mary removed her knitting needles from her bag and clutched them in her hand, holding them as if they were daggers. Mary's tone was most distressing to hear. She used a voice which no one who knew her would now recognize. Of course, there were those who had heard it from time to time, and it had the same effect on them that it had now on Margaret, who cowered and cringed as she shook in terror. "Now Margaret, I am waiting..."

"I've known Peter as long as I can remember, since I was a young child" she began in a whisper, her voice scratchy from Mary's abuse. "My earliest memories are of you, Mrs. Darling, and Peter. You used to visit with me when I was staying with my father's woman friend after my mother died. You used to bring me clothes, and toys and food that they would gather up the moment you left and sell them for money to pay the bills. That woman died in childbirth, too, my father told me he had dirty blood, and that is why his babies and their mothers died. He told me that the fact alone that I lived proved I was worse than he was" Margaret was now gazing off, strolling down memory lane while Mary was growing annoyed at her flattery and delay.

"Peter, Margaret," Mary reminded her harshly, causing Margaret to lower head and cry harder.

"After she died, we didn't have a place to live, so Peter told my father that if he let him have me when he was in London, he would set us up in a better place. I remember Peter coming by to see my mother when she was alive, but I don't remember my mother, I only remember him. He used to touch me..." Her voice caught in her throat as the memory seemed to shake her like a terrier with a throw rug.

Mary now sighed, feeling guilty about her unsympathetic attitude, not foreseeing this revelation, nor truly believing until that moment that Peter was Satan in the flesh. The first sign of sympathy shadowed her being as she lowered her head as well for Margaret sobbed without relief. "Child, you don't have to go on in detail about that, just tell me--"

Margaret now interrupted Mary, raising her hand and her voice, "NO. I want you to know everything now. No one ever let me tell it. Millicent slapped me and told me to shut my filthy mouth when I tried to explain why I wasn't a virgin. Now that you are here and you want to know, I want to tell the truth. I want YOU to listen to ME!"

Margaret drew herself into a little ball, hugging her knees to her chest' -- the position of a girl who had been violated, wanting to protect herself shaking her head and wiping her tears away. With all that settled, "My father and Peter Darling made an arrangement, and Peter would stop by our house, and touch me however he wanted, and make me do things to him, the most awful things, Mrs. Darling. He paid my father when he was done, and was then left in his neat suit and hat, whistling as he walked out the door, as if he had not just left a little girl a bloody mess on the bed. He made me pretend I was a lady, even though I was no older than six or seven. He bought me dresses and makeup and jewelry and would make me wear them. And being the 'lady'," she spat out the title sarcastically, "I am today, I know exactly what he was doing now. He would dance me about and make me drink wine and then he would touch me. You know, tell me I was pretty and my skin was so soft. 'Kiss me...' he would yell, and I would have to do it, or he would slap my bare bottom. He would take off his clothes and make me ... He would tell me to lie down on the bed and spread my legs. Mostly, he would use his fingers and his mouth, and ... and he hurt me Mrs. Darling. It hurt so bad..." Margaret choked through the pain, while Mary tried to control her own breathing that had unexpectedly become ragged.

"He was my first when I was only nine, because my father told him he had to wait or he would surely kill me, him being a full-grown man. And it was NOT nice. My father held me down while Peter rutted into me ... the strange thing was, Peter always said he was sorry for what he did. He said it was because he loved me so much, and never wanted to lose me, that is why he did what he did to me. He told me when I was older, we would run away together, and he would make me a proper wife who was wealthy and well-cared for. I believed him. But father grew jealous. I guess he didn't want to lose me either. And anyway, why should Peter be the only one to enjoy me? Peter said I was nice and tight, and he liked it that way. So did my father."

Mary rubbed her face with her hands, aghast at the girl's horrific descriptions, and moved her fingers just enough to see Margaret staring her at. Margaret was impatient, and wanted to be heard. "Peter was always back and forth between Paris and London. And then one day, after being in Paris for awhile, he returned. I told him all my father had done to me. What a mistake that was, because his feelings towards me changed and he became a monster. A worse monster. He started calling me names, horrible names ... after that and he would hurt me on purpose. There were no more dresses or gifts or dancing, just him barging in having at me. He would slap me hard, over and over again, and where his hands would land! He would pull at me and pinch me ... He would put it in any hole on my body he could find, even my..." Margaret's voice fell away, she shifted on the bed, drawing herself in even tighter, remembering the agony of Peter's torture.

When she found her voice again, she continued: "My father got mad because, when he wanted it, I hurt too much, and I used to cry. He told Peter he couldn't come by anymore, and they got into a horrible fight that Peter lost, so he went away. I thought it was going to get better with him gone, and maybe it did. My father said I was spoiled in that way; he called me a dirty filthy little whore just like my mother. He told me I liked getting it stuck in me, and if I liked it that much, I could do for money. He sent me out on the street. My father and Peter never had to pay me for it, they just took it from me, so getting paid for it was better, and I always kept some of the money for myself."

Mary now felt like a mother again instead of an avenging queen, so she hugged Margaret who embraced her back the instant she felt Mary's touch.

"Peter was only gone for a month, and I was out on the street working every night, and we still ran out of money. My father got really angry, and he started beating me to make me work the streets during the day as well. At night it was the drunks by the pubs, in the daytime, it was the businessmen near the bank and Parliament. The first time I saw Mr. Darling, your husband, I didn't even get a chance to offer him a quick dip in the alley. He gave me tuppence, five of them. And every day, no matter what, when he saw me, he gave me the same."

Margaret leaned as close as she could get into Mary's embrace, and squeezed her tightly around the waist. On instinct alone, Mary released the knitting needles, which dropped to the floor, and kissed Margaret's forehead, rubbing her shoulders to sooth her.

"I never had to suck on Mr. Darling, or lay down for him, or anything. Sometimes, Mrs. Darling, when he would see me in the morning, when I was still there from working the night, he would give me his lunch bag. I felt badly, taking a handout. I didn't know Peter was his brother, not then, so I waited for him when he got out of work, and I followed him. I followed him every day for a week and he always walked home the same. I figured one night when he was walking, I'd offer myself to him for free. So I picked a night, and I dressed pretty and cleaned myself up, and started to flirt when I saw him. He asked me my name and I told him, 'Whatever you want it to be, Sir.' He got really upset and backed away from me; I felt awful and scared myself. I never had a man refuse a charity lay before. I chased after him and told him my name was Margaret Shipman. He said he knew my mother, and thought all along that's who I was, because we have the same smile."

Margaret moaned out loud, an agonizing cry as the demons she held within fled from her body and returned to hell where they belonged.

"You do have the same smile, Margaret, and the same laugh," Mary conceded with tears.

"Mr. Darling told me if my mother were alive, she would have sold herself into slavery to keep me from the misery I lived in. He said he knew she would do that for me. I know she would have, Mrs. Darling, my father made her take to the street, too, before she died. He told me he had to give her a baby to make sure she didn't come home with someone else's..."

Mary was already privy to that knowledge, and hearing for the first time in so many years and from Penny's daughter made her weep more.

Margaret nodded, "That's why you stole money from your husband and didn't tell him why, to help my mother...to help keep my mother from the streets...you gave her money so she didn't have to sell herself... I read it in her journal..."

Mary acknowledged she was correct on that account, "I'm sorry he hit you for it..." Margaret offered before going on. "Mr. Darling promised to save me and bring me home with him, so I could be a part of his family. He said that's what you would want, and he wanted it as well." Margaret broke down and began to sob inconsolably. Mary knelt down in front of her and hugged her with all her might.

Margaret raised her eyes to Mary, and nodded she was ready to go on. "My father started receiving letters from Mr. Darling, and he sent a letter to Peter, mocking him. 'You wanted Mary all to yourself and George stole her out from under you, you had Margaret all to yourself, and George will take her away as well.' Peter came back and started paying my father so he could tell father how to respond and what to ask for. One day, Mr. Darling sent my father diamonds in a black velvet bag, and my father gave those to Peter and he took them. Peter told me then I was to go to your house, and try to get Mr. Darling to pay me like the other men did. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but before she died, my father made my mother go to ask Mr. Darling to pay her for sleeping with him. But she couldn't do that, and neither could I. He was always so nice, and just wanted to help me, to save me. I was scared Peter would get really mad that I wasn't listening to him about seducing Mr. Darling. Peter can be very evil and cruel and brutal when you don't do exactly what he wants. And then Millicent came and took me away and I was relieved, because then I didn't have to obey Peter."

Mary lowered her head, but now it was Margaret who raised it to watch her eyes. "Mrs. Darling, you must know I never thought Mr. Darling would, anyway. My father told me Peter's plan would never work, because my mother wouldn't ask Mr. Darling, so he did for her. Your husband declined, but gave my father the money he was asking for my mother to lie down for nevertheless, just like he did with me. Mr. Darling never looked at me like Peter did. I was afraid if I tried, him not knowing me like he knew my mother, he'd throw me out on the streets again, or worse, send me back to my father and Peter."

Mary inhaled, in her mind she reviewed the timeline, fitting what went on in her life, the life of her husband and children, and what aligned against them all behind the scenes.

"Millicent told me I should always write to my father to be polite, and I wrote to him that I was going to an expensive boarding school. He must have told Peter, because one day he just showed up. He was mad that Millicent had me, and not Mr. Darling. After a while it didn't matter, for he wanted us to be together again, and he said he would get even with your husband in another way. He hates his brother, Mrs. Darling. I met his mother when I was a child, and she didn't seem that horrid. She said a pretty girl like me should not be involved with scum like him. She called him the devil. How awful does a man have to be for his own mother to call him the devil? When she tried to contact Mr. Darling and tell him, Peter sent her away. I think there is something else, another reason I don't know about why he despises his brother so. Please don't be mad and believe me if I knew I would tell you."

"Why are you still involved with him, Margaret? Why would you choose to love and lie for a man like that?" Mary asked touching the young lady who lived more lives than she had, even though she was half Mary's age.

"He promised me that he would take me back to Paris and retrieve our baby from the orphanage just as soon as Mr. Darling gets what he deserves. I lied since you told me not to, I'm sorry. I don't love Peter, I hate him, I can't stand him, and I wish he were dead. I even tried to rid myself of him while I was at school, that's how I got the baby. He wanted to keep me for himself and he said no other would ever have me. He made me steal Mr. Darling's pocket watch and his wallet. He told me yesterday morning to lie and tell you I was also with Mr. Darling, that he wasn't just having an affair with Vivian, but with me also. He wanted me to tell you all these horrible things he made me memorize word for word. Peter is always watching me; I can't get away from him. Even when I hide he finds me. He threatened to kill Millicent, he said if I didn't go along with his plans, he would steal Wendy away and rape her and then make it look like Mr. Darling did it. He even has spectacles like Mr. Darling's that he wears and he signs his name too, pretending to be him to soil his good name. He practiced at it, so they are identical when they write. Mrs. Darling, Peter can and will do all those things, I know he can, I've seen him do it. I've seen him kill someone with my own eyes..."

Mary listened as Margaret spoke, more and more pieces of the puzzle fit into place, all except one. "All that he did to you, Margaret, and still you would lie against George."

Margaret clutched both of Mary's hands in her own, "I was only going to do that too because I just want my baby back. He told me he would get my baby back and then he would leave me alone forever. If it all worked out in his favor, he wouldn't need me anymore. I love my baby; please help me get my baby back. I want my baby. Millicent took my baby from me and wouldn't even let me hold her. They stole her from me. Please keep your promise to my mother and help me, please, if not for me then for my mother."

This sentiment again brought Mary to tears. This would have been the daily torture she would have gone through had she listened to her parents, and her daughter had become the Wendy that wasn't.

"Margaret, listen to me. Your mother told me once; God moves when we move. In times like these, we need all the help we can get. I will help you as well, if you help me. Understand this, I cannot do anything for you if I don't have my husband by my side. He is my strength when I am weak, and he's my shield when I need protection. Without him, I am a knight without a sword. You must tell me what lies were told against him and by whom."

Margaret nodded with her whole body. "I can do that, as long as you promise to get my baby back and keep Peter from me and her." Mary stood and extended her hand to Margaret, a handshake sealing their agreement.

"It was a girl then? Margaret, I'll do better than get your baby back, I will make sure you get all the help you need to raise it. And I promise with all my heart I will do my best to see she never has to face the same fate as you."

Mary and Margaret now went to Millicent's room, and Mary asked the girl to recount every detail of her story to her adoptive mother. Before Margaret began, Mary made Millicent sit with a stocking stuffed in her mouth while she listened. Margaret recounted every single detail of the plot against George, what lies would be told and how to prove them untrue. She told all the particulars of what transpired and when. Margaret finally finished the second time, and Millicent fainted for the twelfth time. Millicent came around and found herself tied to a chair with Mary and Margaret standing before her.

"Aunt Millicent," Mary now began, "you are going to go down to the station house and recant all of your testimony against George. Then you are going to arrange with my father transportation to Paris. Harold will take you there with Margaret. You will go to the orphanage and allow her to retrieve her baby. Harold will sign for the child, and name himself father to her. He will marry Margaret there and then divorce her quietly through a private attorney here. Harold has already completely arranged it with fraudulent dates, because he is owed a favor from one of his old friends. Because of him and him alone, there will not be a scandal, and you can be thankful to him for that. Then you will return home and love that child. Do you understand?"

Millicent, even restrained in a chair, could still turn her nose up, so she did, "And who will make me do all those things? For George, of course Mary, and I'll even apologize to him personally, but not the bastard child of this thing I call a daughter, and Harold as a son-in-law and an ex at that ... He is a drunk, a disgraced doctor and criminal!"

Mary glanced to Margaret, who wore an expression of shame and dishonor. Margaret knew she was never to be a proper young lady, acceptable in polite society, no matter how many lace dresses and pretty gowns she had in her closet, and she didn't need Millicent to tell her that. Forever she would be seen as ruined, imperfect because of her most unfortunate circumstances of being motherless, and left with a rampant criminal for a father. Seeing so much of herself on that day, when Mary had to admit to her parents she allowed George to take her virtue without the formality of a ring, Mary found herself back at that very moment. She raised her hand to her aunt and, with all the years of resentment she'd kept bottled up within her, she brought it down across Aunt Millicent's cheek.

"That is for the slap you gave me, for thinking the same thing when I was eighteen. First off, Harold may have been a drunk, but he is sober now and also a saint for what he is willing to do for his family. Second, and you'd best listen to me woman, you should be thankful to God that He has forgiven your sins and offered you the privilege of a child where there was once no possibility of you ever having the honor of being called mother. And still, after all your wrongs to others and yourself, He still feels you worthy of another title, harder to earn let alone enjoy, that of Grandmother."

Well, that was all Mary had to say, for Millicent jerked about so harshly she freed herself. She rose and straightened her gown and hair and pleaded, "Could we not go to Paris first, Mary? I'm dying to see my granddaughter."

Mary arrived to the safety of her castle and gathered her children and Grandpa Joe to their living room and recited the information she received word for word only leaving off the gruesome and painful details of Margaret's abuse.

"And Margaret will swear her life on it?" her father asked. "It is still her word against theirs, and they can always call her a liar. Mary, remember now two innocent men sit in prison because of her."

Mary watched her father strategize a few steps ahead in the chess game, and she countered with how her own defense was already planned beyond his, "Millicent is also a knight on our field, and I have a few pawns in my pocket not yet on the board. They will do as we have arranged, and then Harry will take them to Paris, and name himself sire to the baby and husband to Margaret. That clears our path to the opposing king, making it much easier without George's name plastered on the child's birth certificate. This is only the first move of the game, Father, and I am ready to play."

Grandpa Joe was impressed and bowed to his daughter as they dressed for bed, for they had already made their first dash on the opposition's king. "I may be premature saying this, but since it will be anyway, Check," Mary said, poised on victory.

Unfortunately for George, the game was far from over. Even with her moves arranged, the Queen would still have to lie in wait for the opposition to progress forward. And they did, just as expected. Out of nowhere, as though she had been there all along, Peter's wife, Eve Darling, miraculously reappeared, the pinnacle of polite society. Her niece also resurfaced and, just as Mary predicted, played the part of the adolescent lover who was misled by a scoundrel much more experienced in shocking behavior. They now spread gossip and more lies, all painting George as the villain with Peter playing the hero.

"Oh yes, he told my niece if she informed anyone of their affair, he would rape her with the barrel of a pistol," Peter informed his gentlemen friends one night while playing poker.

Her family may have worried, but Mary was still as confident of her victory as she was the day she turned Margaret to their side. Mary played a serious game of chess, not for recreation, but to win. She thought all her pieces were important, and wanted none of her own sacrificed in the game. Therefore she was a formidable opponent and very persuasive with her smile.

In the same salon, on that same night, playing poker at another table was Sir Edward Quiller Couch. "Did you hear what that man spoke of George Darling? Is he not employed at your Bank as manager?" Sir Edward was chomping on his cigar as he turned to see Peter snarl at his victory and meager winnings at the nearby table.

"That man, Peter Darling, is imbecile." He declared taking in his own victory as well as a lucrative pot, the largest of the night. "He has always been a cheat, a liar, a total and complete fraud and I shall see to it myself, that he is thrown out of this establishment on his ear!"

As far as Sir Edward's bank manager was concerned, that was simply settled with, "George Darling is one of the finest gentleman in all of London and one of my most respected and trustworthy employees. I'd bet the queen's account that his brother only lies about him because he is envious of George's spotless reputation!"

Sir Edward was good on his word and very trustworthy, not only did he keep his promise that night, that of having Peter Darling tossed to the sidewalk, he made another the next day as well.

"Sir Edward I assure you, your letter of George's good service all these years to the bank will be fine for the court. It would be a waste of your good time to dredge all the way down there to speak on his behalf." Sir Edward Quiller Couch's mind was made up and there nothing Mrs. Darling could do to change it, especially not after she smiled.

"No Mary I insist. George is my finest employee, and to be quite frank I still remember the entire ruckus his brother caused when he first arrived here. He deposited a miniscule amount in a savings account that cost more to balance then the balance itself and then he demanded I fire George for being impolite to customers. I don't think your husband even knows how to be impolite. I will walk in there and tell the court just that, and a few other choice remarks I cannot repeat to a proper lady such as yourself, for fear of being slapped at my rudeness. I won't hear another word about it!"

Mary had her pawns, rooks, knights and even her bishops lined up correctly to play, and now she was ready for the battle to begin. Because she was in the right, she chose white and moved first. With Peter's counteraction already in play, Mary moved again. She learned of Vivian's location and paid her a visit. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Darling, I must say it is so nice to finally meet you in person," she jeered with a smile as false as she was. An hour later, Mary left and swiped the opposition's second piece off the board.

"What did you tell her?" Grandpa Joe asked as Mary returned carrying one of Peter's rooks.

"I told her that a friend I had made in Paris when I vacationed there with my husband had recently entrusted me with an advertisement for a brothel there, and, oddly enough, I noticed Vivian was star attraction. Not only does she dance the can-can, she can also be hired for a private show after hours by paying her madam extra in advance. By the way father, I also mentioned the madam's name that was listed."

Grandpa Joe spit out his tea as his eyes bulged from his head when his daughter informed him of her name. "_The Garden of Eden_," was the name of the show, and oddly enough, the Madam who managed the dancers was named, "Eve."

"Here's the candle on the cake, Father. Vivian confided in me that George never fathered her child. Peter made her starve herself and tie her corset extra tight to keep from showing. She had already missed a monthly before she arrived and that is why Peter chose her instead of her sister who was just as pretty."

Mary raised her brow, and inquired after her husband still waiting in hell to be saved. "He's not well, Mary, he caught a nasty cold, and they're keeping him in the sick ward. You should go see him."

Mary left immediately, and began to nurse him back to health. When the prison guard told her she had to leave, just like the time she was in the hospital herself, she showed George on her watch when she would return. "I have some business I need to take care of tomorrow, I will send Wendy to you, and then John and then Michael, so you will not be alone all day." All the children, escorted by Harold, came together and stayed until their mother arrived, and then they all stayed until the warden made them leave.

For her next moves, Mary told no one where she went except her father. If he had to recount it, he would have had to remember that she went to two different prisons on either side of London, several hotels, several other restaurants, a boarding school that took her away for the day and night, the ticket booth at the boat yard, the telegraph office several times a day, the station house almost daily, and potter's field, the poor man's cemetery.

She had not slept in weeks, and had not eaten a meal since the last day George was home. She drank tea and at night smoked cigarettes for energy in her competition. Mary never felt more invigorated in her life, and she never looked better. Mary visited George every day and told him, "You must trust me for I know what I am doing." George was never able to beat Mary at chess, even though he won tournaments playing in school, so he trusted her because, as always in their marriage, she knew best.

It can be agreed, chess is traditionally a game of gentlemen, but Mary was no gentleman. She was a wife and mother, and at times a wicked witch protecting her own gingerbread house. She had the all the powers that went with her professions. One by one, she swiped Peter's pieces, cleaning the board, leaving only one on his side. Peter the king. More so, she turned the pieces, rather than clearing them, for all his pawns, rooks, knights and bishops and even the Queen now became hers, and she aligned them against him without him ever knowing.

The Darling Family came home from church on a Sunday morning and found George sitting on the doorstep waiting. Mary embraced him and covered his face with kisses. When the children were able to surround him with their hugs and kisses, Mary looked at her father and said, "Checkmate."

_Author's Note: I do extend my apologizes for the harsh description of Margaret's abuse. But it was necessary in the process of my plot development which will be become an important factor later in the story._


	37. Chapter 37 War and Remebrance

My Darling Love

Chapter 37 – War and Remembrance

"_No man succeeds without a good woman behind him._

_Wife or mother, if it is both, he is twice blessed indeed."_

_-Harold MacMillan_

Aunt Millicent dressed Margaret, wrapping a scarf around her neck to hide Mary's handprints, and marched down to the police station. There she camped out, right outside the chief constable's door, until he agreed to listen to her new story, proclaiming George's innocence. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Davis, even if we drop your charges and those of your daughter, he still will be held for attempted murder, and that is a serious charge."

Aunt Millicent and Margaret marched to the Darling House and declared, "We are at war with Peter Darling, and we must do everything possible to free George from prison. Mary Elizabeth, what do you think we should do?"

Mary had her own plans for Margaret, and personally, she thought Aunt Millicent had done enough, although, "The only thing I need you to do is navigate the rumormongers and gossip hounds. Not an unkind word should be said of George, and I don't care what lies you have to tell to protect his good name. No one can know he is prison, do you understand? If anyone asks, he is on holiday, or taking care of his sick mother. Peter will bring his wife from Paris and his niece, I'm sure. They will attempt to travel in the same circles you do in polite society. STOP THEM. You've been around a long time and are more respected and far more powerful. You have an honorable reputation, and anyone of good breeding believes it is from God's mouth to your ear and on from there. Use that against them."

With a compliment like that, how could Millicent refuse? She was recognized in all social circles as a lady of good breeding, great wealth and generosity, who attended church and looked after her "poor relations," who had even taken in and adopted an abandoned child, out of the goodness of her heart. In no time at all, she had drifted in and out of parties and afternoon teas, dinners and events where others of her ilk dwelt, and, in one mighty swoop, knocked Peter, his wife, and his niece from them.

"You don't want to be inviting the likes of those people here. Most inappropriate choice of dinner guests ...they are from France, and you know what I mean by that." Aunt Millicent did a lot of "you know what I mean," and just like Mary told her, she lied and spiced things up, for that was her greatest talent. "You see that man over there? I heard only yesterday Sir Edward Quiller Couch had him thrown out of the gentleman's salon on First Street for cheating at cards. I've heard from a very good source he has been known to sleep with his niece as well as his wife_ at the same time _right after dinner every night. Whoever heard of such a thing?" The old woman Millicent spoke to fell back and over her chair, dabbing her handkerchief to her forehead, thinking of everyone else she could tell.

Just for spite, Millicent added, "That Peter Darling ought to be ashamed, he should take a lesson from the fine gentleman his brother George is. Hard to believe they were raised in the same family. You know, George will not even speak to him or allow him near his wife or children, and I don't blame him. He told me himself, if I am ever in the same room as he is, I should hide my purse, for Peter Darling would surely steal that and my bloomers as well!"

Mary's friend from Paris sent her a brochure from a club that hosted an act called _Dames et amoureux dansants de Madame Darling's pour le loyer_ (in translation, Mrs. Darling's dancing ladies and lovers for rent). Apparently, it was quite the rage in Paris with traveling businessmen, and the main attraction was a young lady who described as, _Le plus belle et seductive de toutes les jeunes dames dans l'exposition qui est très douée dans elle des techniques et des qualifications dansantes ailleurs au loin de l'étape._ It had been a few years since Mary had read French, although she could still speak it well, so she needed aid from her daughter Wendy, who was quite fluent in interpreting the written word. "It says, the most beautiful and seductive of all the young ladies in the show, who is very talented in her dancing techniques and skills elsewhere off of the stage."

Wendy looked down the pamphlet and brought Mary's attention to something written in the small print at the bottom. _Monsieur Peter Darling, propriétaire._ "That means he owns this club, mother. And I don't think by what this says means his wife is really Vivian's aunt." _Voyages de Mme Darling le monde recherchant le plus fin et le plus beau de toutes les dames pour appeler la famille. Chaque fille a été main choisie pour leur beauté, leur charme et le désir d'enchanter d'autres dans le plaisir._

"It reads something such as, 'Mrs. Darling travels the world looking for the finest and most loveliest of all ladies to call family. Every girl has been hand selected for their beauty, their charm and the desire to delight others in pleasure.' I think that what it says, but does that mean what I think it does?"

Mary went to see Vivian and showed her the brochure, along with the drawing of her likeness inside above her description. "Vivian, please, I read your letter and you sounded very sincere in your apology. I know this paper says you're a prostitute, but if what I think is correct, and what I have learned recently from others, that was not of your own making. So either you meant what you wrote, or are a very good liar, or that letter was only another part of the plot that seems to be unfolding, or someone else wrote that letter on your behalf to give me closure. Now which one of the four is it?"

Vivian was truly a beautiful young woman, and her presence in her exquisite afternoon dress, with blonde hair flowing in perfectly cascading curls, was intimidating to Mary, years older. Not only was her hair perfect, but her face, features and body as well. Her voice purred with a rich French accent that made Mary's skin crawl, for the moment she spoke, Mary had visions of her whispering adoring sentiments to George while they engaged in their passions. Nonetheless, with all that was physical perfection in her appearance, more than Mary's matured beauty, she still held within her a tortured heart and soul, much the same as Margaret's.

"Peter's wife is not my aunt. She bought me from an orphanage when I was eleven, and taught me to dance. Then she put me in her show, and then made me the backstage act when I grew older. Peter came along and they married. That whole trip you took to Paris with George..." She paused, for saying his name was painful, and Mary could tell by the look on her face that she had fallen in love with George. Never again in their conversation did she refer to him by his first name. Instead she titled him "your husband" to remind herself, that no matter what, George would always belong to his wife and no other.

"That holiday was part of Peter's master plan. He brought the girls from the club to see which one your husband was attracted to. He thought he had him trapped with his own wife, but that did not go well. I can be a very good flirt when I'm paid well enough, and you know what came next." Vivian sat on her chair and glanced down at her dress. "I will never live like this again in my life. The clothes, the jewels, the fancy things, were all part of the show. When I go home, Peter will make the madam get rid of me, and who will want me for anything more than what they can pay me to do?"

Mary wanted to call her names and tear out her hair for her dirty deeds, telling her that the fate she described was exactly what she deserved, but Mary had a forgiving heart, and, in this case, she responded in another way, "You care very deeply for George."

Vivian nodded, "Yes, he treated me well because he thought my intentions were my own, and not provoked by a salary. I got paid every time he agreed to meet me, and a bonus if he took me to bed."

"The madam is always telling us, 'n'embrassez jamais les hommes qui vous payent le sexe sur la bouche'."

Mary had a hard time reading French, but she spoke it well enough to know, "never kiss the men who are paying you to make love."

Vivian nodded. "But your husband wasn't paying me, Peter was. And even though I knew I shouldn't, I did kiss him, and he would not even kiss me back. All I ever got was a peck on the cheek or on the hand. When I tried for his mouth, he would jerk his head back, as if my lips were poisoned. He told me that his kisses were only given to you, that I was not worthy of them. You are a very lucky woman, Mrs. Darling. I tried to steal him from you, but I could not.

"Peter was always so pleased. I would chase after your husband and bother him, begging for his time, without Peter having to tell me to. Your husband always told me, 'no we will only meet for lunch twice a week, and on one morning, Tuesday evening is yours but only until a quarter before nine, and then I am to go home.' If I tried to delay him by threatening I would tell you what was going on, he would simply reply, 'Please, tell my wife.' If I did that, then I would never see him again, so I never did. I lied about him to the constables and Peter is not even paying me to. I do it because I am angry with him for not wanting me. For not saving me like he saved you."

"So you kept your schedule with him, then?" Mary asked.

"Yes, and I was always on time, because your husband liked things promptly. Peter was furious that I could not persuade your husband into more meetings, so he had his wife get involved. We held a private party in our hotel room with the four of us, putting on a show. Your husband was very nervous and could not have sex in the company of others. Peter said to try it with only the madam and myself, but that didn't work either. Peter got so agitated, he told me I would have to service him and George alone, but I refused, and his wife, my madam, said no. He was to employ another, but she was with child or something like that, and not available.

"Peter is very good at causing mayhem and he is also a very good actor. He would dress himself up as your husband and take me all over London, showing me off as his mistress. He is so much older than George, I never thought a soul would believe it, but they did. He would sign George's name everywhere, hotels, restaurants, shops, and boutiques, anywhere they had a register, we went. Peter had to double my fee, for I threatened him as well. I may only be a whore, Mrs. Darling, but I am the best of all whores, and well paid for my talents."

Vivian was different in her exchange with Mary. She sat across from George's wife with a straight face and smoked cigarette after cigarette as she recounted all the information that Mary needed. Not once did she let her guard down until Mary asked, "Si donné la chance pendant une meilleure vie, la prendriez-vous?" Feeling the best way to break into Vivian's heart was through her native tongue.

"Oui, mais qui peut me sauver maintenant?

"So I asked her if she was a given a chance for a better life, would she take it?"

"And what did she say Mary?"

"She said, yes, but who would save her now?"

Grandpa Joe sat at the kitchen table with his daughter and looked over the diary Vivian gave Mary. In it she listed her monthlies, the men who paid for her affections, and all of Peter's demands upon her in regards to George. "Mary, don't show George this. I know being a woman you will want to, it's a subconscious gratification to yourself to let George know someone had to pay that whore to spend time with him. Even though you expect him not to be surprised and, if anything, grateful, he won't be, not in his heart. It's a mark against his manhood he will always remember, and it will hurt you just as much as it hurts him."

"I would never tell him she only tempted him because she was being paid to, for that would be a bold face lie." Her father raised his eyes to her face. "I have to tell you, Father, after talking to Vivian, beyond this diary, I believe in my heart that she had great expectations of him leaving me, and they would be together. Peter did not have to pay her to spend time with George -- she wanted to. Look at this diary, of all the men she's serviced, she wrote only the fees and the dates. But with George, she wrote everything leaving out not one detail. George was mistaken, it was twelve."

Mary guided her hand down and counted again as Grandpa Joe stared back at her with a quizzical expression. "Twelve?"

Mary nodded and shook her head, "The times they made love."

Grandpa Joe moved his hands to Mary's and then shifted them up to her face when he saw her attention. "No, Mary Elizabeth, he never made love to her. He had his way with her, just like any other man paying for it. Remember that always. Go on."

"Peter wanted a girl that had just discovered she was with child to come along to London. Vivian says there are one or two girls a month in the show that get in that way. His purpose was simple. Get George to have an affair with her, have him seen all over town with loads of rumors and tons of proof to the adultery, and then drop that girl off on our doorstep, swollen with child, to reveal all the dirty little secrets of their situation to me. It would have worked, if not for two major complications in his plan. The first was simple and a matter of the heart. Peter never thought it possible for Vivian to fall in love with George. She said she has had men fall all over her, charmed by her beauty, men that promised to take her away with them and make her the queen of their kingdom. From her own experiences, she knows those promises only lasted until they 'had their way with her,' and then the pledges of undying devotion changed quicker than the bed sheets. Peter knew she was always turning men away from her with those promises, only as a way to guard herself, more than being incapable of love. With George, she lost her heart, whatever it was worth, for George always keeps his promises to see her again. The acts of betrayal Peter spoke of were overshadowed by her dream that he would leave me and make a home with her."

Mary rose from the table and went to the sink, running the cold water to wash her face. "What was the second, Mary Elizabeth?"

"The second, Father, was the as simple as the first, Vivian lost the baby. Peter had already written a note that was addressed to George, but intended for my eyes, letting me know my husband's mistress was late, setting the stage. But George saw the letter before I did and confronted her. Peter thought it all for the best, because he knew George would be terrified and take her away on a train that very night, for she had informed Peter she was close to stealing his love from me. That is what Peter wanted, George gone so he could have me. It did not happen that way, though, George was alarmed, but not panicked enough to runaway with her. Instead, it did the exact opposite of Peter's intention -- it made him run home."

"Vivian was afraid as well, the moment she learned that Peter sent that note; for she knew the truth about George. She knew she was no closer to stealing his heart from me than any time before. She lied to Peter, so he would allow her control of her trysts with George and leave them alone. Vivian decided to have the baby aborted. It would be done in an unimaginable procedure, which she described to me in great detail. She knew George would hate her to begin with, along with the unborn baby that wasn't his, if what Peter had told her was correct, and I left George and took the children with me. In the end, she wanted the two of them to be together, so it was a double-edged sword in this case. She lost George, ruining Peter's plot. She lost the baby, for God intervened on that poor girl's behalf, and that horrid procedure was not necessary. It would probably have killed her. George would already be rotting in prison for her death."

"That would have been the perfect checkmate, God intervened for all of us. What happened after that, Mary Elizabeth?" Grandpa Joe stood and Mary turned to face him, and he hugged her. She was crying as she leaned on his shoulder for comfort, "They were all running for their lives, trying to concoct new schemes, but not working together which would have been wiser, but instead against each other. Vivian just wanted George, no matter if she had to share him or not. Peter wanted George gone."

Mary straightened, putting her cool hand to her forehead to sooth the ache. "The strangest thing to Vivian was, even though she'd lost that baby, George still wanted to be friends with her. Friends meant lunch and dinner, nothing else. She told me she was selfish, and wouldn't let him go. A friend was good enough for her, but not good enough for Peter. He told her she must get pregnant again, this time insuring it was George's baby, or he would have her sister in Paris murdered. They were together one time after that, the night of Wendy's birthday. Vivian said she practically had to rape George and he told her he would never allow her to put him in that situation again, and their friendship was over. What hurt her the most was, not only would he not finish himself inside of her, he refused to finish at all."

Vivian told Mary that her aunt -- rather, her madam -- could be easily turned in the game with enough money. After a lengthy heart to heart, Vivian now took a seat alongside of Mary. "She married him because she fell in love with his money. He was a regular customer. He told her she reminded him of his one true love in life that he could never attain." Vivian quickly gave Mary the once over, gently touching her fingertips to Mary's face and hair. Mary watched Vivian curiously as she spoke; "You are very beautiful, Mrs. Darling, fatal beauty, they call it ... the kind that drives men to insanity ..." Mary clasped Vivian's hand in her own and lowered it from her face without saying a word. "You have had many men fall in love with you, have you not?"

Mary still did not answer, only gazing expressionless at Vivian. "Of all of those men, why choose George?" Vivian asked not expecting an answer although Mary did give one, "Without me, you would have never met him."

"Believe me, I would have been much better off without meeting your husband, I assure you." Vivian replied and sighed, "Anyway, Mrs. Darling, Auntie Eve is bitter of Peter's infidelities that he does nothing to hide. His funds are nearly dried up, and now he is stealing money from her. He is such bastard and keeps getting the girls in her establishment pregnant, me included." Vivian touched her belly, Mary noticing the small rounding of it hidden in her dress. "She just wants him gone. He had to pay her to be here, so if you just _doublez ses honoraires_ she will _parlez la vérité._ And, Mrs. Darling, with just me alone it's my word against theirs, all I have to offer as proof is my diary that you free to take with you. I'm sure you know yourself being a proper lady, a liar only has to lie once and no one will ever believe they speak the truth. With Peter's wife, you will have the _bouche du monstre._"

"So as long as we can double her fee, she will speak the truth and then we will have the mouth of the monster," Mary recounted to her son John. "But I checked your father's books and even though his lawyer is not taking payment for his services, without your father's normal pay and without taking money from Wendy, Michael and your accounts -- which he would never allow -- there is not enough."

John went into his coat pocket and pulled out a savings book. "We have enough, I was saving to send Wendy to America and to send you and father on a real honeymoon. I sold the things father purchased for that girl, and had father's banker friend invest the money in a very aggressive but highly risky stock that took off and went through the roof. It nearly quadrupled its value before I sold it. Please don't tell father, he always warns against such risky ventures, but I think rather nothing ventured nothing gained."

Mary met Mrs. Peter Darling in a café with Vivian, and tripled the fee she received from her husband. "This will be enough to relocate elsewhere when we return, I will even pay to have that procedure done to rid your body of that baby," she told Vivian.

Vivian's eyes met Mary's as she responded; "I'm not returning to Paris. Mr. and Mrs. George Darling are sending me home. And I am keeping my child."

Peter's wife was less than happy at this news, and scoffed at the whore that sat in her costume, pretending to be a proper lady. "And where is this home? And how will you support not only yourself but also a baby? You'd better not be whoring for someone else."

Mary put her hand under Vivian's chin and raised her head. She looked at Mary, and with pride, answered, "Les Sables D'Olonne, Mrs. Mary Darling got me a job there, a real job for a dressmaker. I leave in a week."

Mary's friend from Paris proved to be one of Mary's most important allies in her game of chess. Good it was that her last name was Bishop, for to Mary, on the chessboard that was the piece Mary played her as. Peter's wife left, and went to the prosecutor, withdrawing her testimony against George, and offering an earful about her own husband. "He is a pedophile, the younger the better he likes them. He molested that Margaret Davis girl from the time she was a small child until she was old enough to know better. He was caught with her while she attended a boarding school, and made her blame the caretaker. His own brother, George Darling, caught him too with the underage girl. And since he had more money than that unfortunate gentleman, lied about him as well to cover his evil deeds. Mr. George Darling only assaulted my husband in self defense, as Peter threatened to kill his wife and children if he informed authorities of his crimes."

When the prosecutor asked Eve Darling why she was having a change of heart, she responded, "He defiled my own niece as well, she awaits outside to tell you herself. He threatened to kill her if she did not back up his concocted story. She informed me of his intimidation this very morning. She has all the proof you need residing in her belly."

George was released from prison only an hour later. Mary still had many pieces on her chessboard unused, still in their original positions. She defeated her brother-in-law, instead, with his own army, and he took flight in retreat on a ship bound for America before the authorities could catch up with him. When it was all said and done, Peter Darling was a wanted man all over London, regarded as armed and dangerous.

Margaret's testimony was particularly damning. "He murdered my father. He raped me and gave me my daughter. I wrote to my father for help, for there was nowhere else I could turn. I was fearful of hurting my adopted family, and I had no other family I could go to. My father, the sinner that he was, was angered that he would have to take me back in if Millicent Davis threw me out, so he went to Peter and told him to leave me alone, or he intended to turn him in. My father was drunk, and Peter Darling beat him to death with the butt of his pistol and dumped his body in the shipyard where my father was employed, all while I watched. He told me he did what he did to free me. My father was buried in potter's field, unnamed, but the body found at the shipyard's garbage pile wearing the a dirty blue striped shirt with brown trousers, blonde hair and moustache was him." Margaret testified to it, and identified her father's beaten body from the constable's photos, holding Mary's hand close to her chest.

Auntie Eve cleaned out what was left in her husband's bank accounts in London as well as Paris, and relocated with her assorted "nieces" elsewhere, without leaving a forwarding address. Millicent took Margaret to a small town outside of Paris to retrieve the child she left there, along with Harry as their escort. He brought with him a letter to the headmistress of the orphanage, offering Mary's sincerest thanks for her telegram to the prosecutor, testifying that Peter went there in an attempt to remove the child from her care and hide it elsewhere.

Peter had listed his name in her visitor's log, as the child's father, but Harry remained insistent that it should be changed to his own name, at least on her birth certificate. He married Margaret in Paris, with Millicent as witness, and then returned with his new wife and quickly and quietly signed divorce papers the same hour their boat docked.

Vivian was homebound to her new life in her new hometown with the unborn baby she carried of Peter's safe within her, and was never heard from again of her own accord. Mary's dear friend from Paris, a dressmaker, wrote her often of the lovely young widow that married a handsome businessman who fell madly in love with her beauty and charm and wanted to raise her son as his own.

The caretaker from Margaret's boarding school was released from prison as a result of Mary's visits to him. He was never found innocent of the crime of which he was accused, as the professors and headmaster still swore that he was, in fact, Margaret's lover -- not because they felt it was the truth, but because they wanted to save their reputation with their wealthy clientele. But because of the caretaker's good behavior, the prosecutor allowed him off with time served. The headmaster of another school then presented him with a position, with both Mary and Aunt Millicent's letters of recommendation. This he accepted, with reservations, and never again traveled to any section of gardens wherein two clandestine lovers might be discovered. Just the same, he wrote to Mary and apologized for not being able to be of more assistance, and thanked her for honoring her vow to help him.

George sat in prison a different man. As the days passed in his confinement, with nothing else to do but think of all the wrongs he'd committed against others, he began to believe he'd gotten just what he deserved. He refused to eat, and soon caught a terrible chill that gave him a worse fever.

Mary went and cared for him; she was stronger than George ever knew, showing sides of herself he had never seen. She yelled at the prison nurses in that terrifying voice for being neglectful when he asked for assistance in using the chamber pot and was refused. He wet the bed and worse, and when Mary arrived, he was so embarrassed by the smell and his soiled bed sheets that he hid under the covers and turned six shades of red. "I want clean bed sheets and blankets and clean pajamas. I also want a wash basin with warm water, sponge and soap NOW!" she demanded when she found him.

Mary was unfazed by his smell or his condition. She stripped him and the bed and washed both from top to bottom. He cried and she held him, "It's alright, dearest, I will take care of you when you are sick. You need not worry, for I love you, and I am doing my best to bring home to me."

With her caring attention, he soon grew well again. She brought the priest from their church with her on several occasions, and he gave confession and communion. "Did I not tell you, George, your salvation lay in Mary? I will offer mass for you tomorrow, as it has been requested by many people who heard you were ill."

No one knew George was in a prison hospital, let alone a prison, Aunt Millicent made sure of that. Another lie she told to save his good name, "George Darling in prison? Did those words truly just come out of your mouth? You are either attempting a bad joke, or have gone mad! George Darling sitting prison, what a ridiculous tale, wherever did you hear it! Ha-ha-ha, you make me laugh, being so silly!"

George's job at the bank, as well as his reputation everywhere else Millicent was incapable of reaching, was secured by Sir Edward himself, who assured Mary, "My close personal friends at all of the newspapers guaranteed me not one word will be in print of all that is transpiring. But you must allow me to comment once that rascal brother of his is arrested ... Of course, I will leave George's name out of it. I have also informed the staff that George took a leave of absence due to, um, 'mental stress,' my wife read the term in one of her woman's magazines. He is welcome to come back as soon as he is better, but I cannot pay his salary without him here to earn it."

Mary was just happy he still had a job, and his position as Bank Manager. She paid the expenses with their "petty cash fund" and George's personal savings account. When the money went thin, just as she had done when she was a newlywed, she cut her long locks and sold them to a wigmaker. "Oh, Mary Elizabeth, your hair is so short!" Aunt Millicent mocked. Grandpa Joe kicked her shin under the table, and she changed her words, "But it is so becoming on you dearest, it makes you look ten years younger."

The hairstyle was quite unflattering, and Mary now always wore her hat when she ventured outdoors. Inside the privacy of her home, she let Wendy fix it with combs in an attempt to make it look like she still had the length, which was just held up in a different manner. This is the way she wore it when she visited her husband, who knew the first time she approached what she had done. "Your hair, Mary, please don't tell me you were forced to sell it again."

Mary removed her hat and patted her head; "This style is quite fashionable at the moment George. You don't like it? Women everywhere are wearing it this way, I think its rather smart." The style was not in fashion, nor was there another woman anywhere in the world wearing it cut below the ear. George shook his head and tried to contain his tears. "It will grow back, and I promise to never cut it again, although the children think my new look is very flattering."

By the time his record was cleaned at the court, he had lost a considerable amount of weight, and the clothes he was arrested in that he wore home now hung on him. He was pale, his face needed shaving, and his stomach growled for a home cooked meal from Mary's kitchen. The children carried him, buoyed up by their joy alone at his return, back into the house. "Children, take your father upstairs. Wendy, run him a warm bath with plenty of soap bubbles. John, help him undress and wait outside the washroom while he bathes, just in case in needs help getting in and out of the tub. Michael, you are to help me in the kitchen."

Nana, the children's nurse was retired from her station, but came back into service with George's return. She blasted up the stairs and followed after him as he entered the bathroom alone. She stood next to the tub and reminded him to wash behind his ears and in between his toes, before fetching him a towel and his bathrobe. She led him into his bed and forced him to lie down and then covered him with his blankets.

Mary came up the stairs, and placed a tray of hot soup with fresh baked bread on his lap and stayed to make sure he ate every last morsel. "I was hoping for a large steak and roasted potatoes, with green beans for the next course."

Mary stuck out her lower lip, sorry to dismay him, but told him with a smile, "It's not healthy to stuff yourself, George. You must first get back into the habit of eating all your meals. The nurse in the ward told me you were starving yourself. I will not have you get sick when your stomach will not tolerate heavy foods that are hard to digest. You can have soup and bread for lunch, a hearty stew for dinner and porridge for breakfast. And only hot tea with honey at every meal and no dessert, they are too rich."

George moaned just like the children used to when they were not feeling well and Mary would not allow them their dessert for fear of an upset stomach. "I'm sorry, George, only for a few days till your color returns."

In a few days, his color had indeed returned, but he was not yet ready to go back at work. "We have plenty of money in savings, you were not looking at the correct books. We will just have to wait longer to purchase an automobile."

He asked Mary no questions regarding how his brother was defeated, and took the position that nothing out of the ordinary had transpired in his absence.


	38. Chapter 38 Death Becomes Her

My Darling Love

Chapter 38 – Death Becomes Her

"_When the action was over and they were returning with joy, they recognized Nicanor, lying dead, in full armor."_

_-II Maccabees, chapter 25 verse 28_

Mary's energy surge that had kicked into high gear with her husband imprisoned now subsided, leaving her exhausted, too tired to get out of bed. She got out anyway, and went through her day as best she could, only resting when the room began to spin around her. The color gained in George's cheeks, and the flesh and muscle that returned to his body seemed to come from his wife, as she spent all the time he was home and bedridden at his disposal. Mary never got a chance to sit for even a moment, for George asked her for all sorts of favors, "I'm parched, dear. Would you make me some tea?" She went immediately down the stairs and brewed tea, and brought it back up to make sure it arrived to him fresh from the teapot. "Oh, you didn't put any lemon in it, you know I like lemon in my tea." Back down the stairs to get a lemon wedge and back up. "On second thought, I think milk and sugar would be better, I'll need another cup." When she brought milk and sugar already prepared to his normal preference, he decided, "I meant to say honey not sugar, and no milk." It went on like this for every one of George's needs.

"Mary, sit down and rest while George is napping." Grandpa Joe would offer his chair to her.

"No, there are so many things that I need to get done. I don't have the time, Father. I have a house to run and children to care for, and food to cook, and shopping to do and errands to run. Which reminds me of the laundry, if I don't get started, we'll have no clean clothes. I still have to clean the kitchen, and I promised Wendy to fix her dress..." She had a full schedule and devoted endless amounts of time to her husband.

In contrast, George had been in nearly the same position when Mary was sick after her surgery from Michael's birth, with one some significant differences. He was working full time at the bank, and spent a greater part of the day sitting at a desk. True, he worked, but not at full speed ahead like Mary was now. When he sat with her at the hospital, or back at home, he got the chance to sit. Mary was on her feet, moving about and racing up and down the stairs, to the store, to the backyard and countless other places. He had also been able to sleep at night -- if only for a few hours, and napped on the weekends. Mary never slept at night; for that was the only time she could clean and do laundry without interruption. And all those around her who needed her to do something constantly disturbed her naps.

But the most substantial difference was that George always accepted help when it was offered, and Mary preferred to do everything herself. George welcomed the multitude of people who came and sat with the children, while Aunt Millicent anonymously sent her maid to help clean the house. Uncle Peter, disguised as a comrade, had played with the children and helped run errands. Mary's constant repetition of "Never mind, I'll do it myself," and "No, let me get that," were heard repeatedly.

George awoke one morning refreshed and revitalized, and decided this was the day he would reward his wife for all her loyal service. Mary never wanted to think of making love as a duty, but as George groped at her breasts and licked her ear, she took a deep breath, and "took one for the team" of womankind. Mary did look pale and drawn by this point; she had dark circles under the eyes. But poor George just couldn't see it hidden behind of mask of makeup she was never seen without.

She was done in and bone-tired. Of all mornings, this was the only one where she would have been able to get some much-needed sleep, with the boys gone to school, Wendy at Aunt Millicent's to help Margaret with the baby, and Grandpa Joe out for the day with a friend. Instead, she gathered whatever she had left inside that made her heart beat and brain function to keep her eyes open so she would not fall asleep with them closed, and give her husband the performance of her life -- that she was enjoying the rutting George was engaging her in.

Hoping it would be over quickly, that and once would be enough, she was denied on both counts, for he had just as much stamina as he had desire for her. Into the afternoon his pleasure took him again, and when he was finished he rolled over, falling into a light snooze. Mary was delighted, hoping to do the same, until he made the request, "I'm famished Mary. Do you mind making an early supper?"

Mary minded, but said nothing. She was still plagued with thoughts of guilt regarding her neglect. She remembered his unhappiness when she ignored his feelings, disregard which had led to his adultery. She remembered how she'd put them all in harm's way, and this day she made herself get up from the bed and go to the kitchen.

When she returned to their bedroom, George inquired after dinner. When she told him it would be a simple affair, he complained, "But I'm starving, and leftover casserole will not do." So she made his favorite dinner, with all the extras, and ironed him a fresh shirt, washed the dog, and dusted the house from top to bottom, for as long as she moved, the blood in her body kept pumping.

The family gathered at the table and dug into the delicious cuisine it took her all afternoon to make, and took only the ten minutes to finish the meal, "That was delicious. What's for dessert?"

Aunt Millicent had brought her daughter Margaret and her granddaughter, Martine. "I was thinking that, after the washing up, we could all go to see the ballet the local dance academy is having in the park. It's something about spring love or some such nonsense."

Aunt Millicent's suggestion and the excited reaction from the rest of those at the table made Mary get up, do the washing up, put on her coat and hat, and walk endless blocks at a hurried pace, so as to not miss a moment of the production.

She spent the entire evening chasing Martine, who was already old enough to have developed a stubborn and unruly personality. She stomped around and would not listen to anyone but Mary. Therefore Mary played "mommy", giving Margaret a break from the constant calling of motherhood. After the performance, she suggested they take a cab home. George scoffed at the expense, "Let us all walk and enjoy this lovely evening."

Mary waited until every single person who lived in her home was fast asleep before she even dreamed of going upstairs. She waited while scrubbing her kitchen floor as the house fell silent. Then she climbed to the second floor and ran the tub full of hot water. She disrobed and got in with the water still running; this being, she felt, the most tranquil sensation she had experienced in her life. The bath water slowly climbed to her neck, and she rested her head back on the porcelain and closed her eyes. Her muscles relaxed and soon she was in a deeply entranced slumber. Her body began to slide down slowly, and now essentially unconscious, depleted, and done for, Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling slipped further and deeper into the water, until not one inch of her beautiful face remained exposed in the cool night air.

George saw Mary standing at the back of the church with her father clutching to her arm as if he would never let her go, no matter what grew beneath her dress, hidden in white. He looked to his left and saw his eldest brother Peter staring down in the direction he had been only a moment before. George hadn't noticed it at the time, but both Peter and Harry were looking at Mary. Charles, a few years younger than the oldest brother, second behind Peter, held his mild grin of enjoyment at him. "Seems mommy's favorite boy will never be able to serve behind the altar, unless the bride is lying with her legs spread on it..." Charlie snickered to George as they stood by the altar.

"Charlie," George said in his sleep, a horrible man, deserving of his demise. Charlie died shortly after his mother had, a victim of the tuberculosis he contracted while caring for patients stricken with disease. George did not feel the least bit sorry for him when he heard of his brother's death. In George's eyes, Charlie was second only to Peter in wickedness. Charlie was a liar, a cheat and a thief, with everything in life. He never got to meet George's children, and the only good part of his early passing was that he never got to enjoy the result of Peter's betrayal of their youngest brother. Charlie had vowed "I will never speak to you again, as mother and father have forbidden me to, although they didn't have to. I wouldn't care if I never saw you again, George!"

In his will, Charlie left George his flat in London. It was more of a punishment than a sincere gesture of peace between two brothers, for the place was filthy. Charlie had left it in ruins. When Harry returned from the drunken stupor he'd spent the best part of his life in -- after accidentally killing one of his patients by treating him while intoxicated, or so the story goes -- George let him live there rent free. That turned out to be the only good thing Charlie had ever done in his life.

But none of that mattered, for it was his wedding day, and Mary was waiting to be his wife at the end of the aisle. George's recollection of her father dragging her down to the altar was different than Mary's. He saw Mr. Baker's frown as he walked side by side with his lovely daughter, who was to be "wasted," married to him. He sneered not only to George but also to the priest when asked, "Who gives Mary to this man to be wed?" And now his princess stood before him, so pretty and perfect that George could not wait to be pronounced husband and wife and receive the kiss. So he dipped in early and brushed his lips to hers, "Today, you make me the happiest man who ever lived."

George and Mary held each other's eyes for the whole ceremony, except for one single solitary moment when Mary looked beyond George and back. She smiled the complete expression of love and elation, but in that one moment, her smile faded, only to return as if it never left when she met George's crystal blue gaze again. He also wondered after that instant, what she was thinking. He believed it was a doubt, a question in her mind that came and went, that he was possibly not the one she should be marrying. George carried that moment with him in his subconscious since the day they wed. Because of all that had come to pass since that very special day, as he slept comfortably this night in his bed alone, he finally realized what she saw in that sobering glimpse.

His dream played out, unfolding as though he was standing at the altar, and he heard every word the priest spoke and waited for that split second to come. At the moment in which it occurred, "if there is any man who knows why these two should not be married let them step forward and speak now or forever hold their peace..." George, now on instinct alone, turned around and saw Peter standing behind him. It was not to the look on Peter's face that George cast his attention to, but Peter's foot, which moved forward, a subliminal message to Mary, who didn't see his foot, but saw his left eye, now winking flirtatiously at her.

George replayed that instant in his mind over and over again. There were times when he turned around through the whole ceremony and left Mary smiling at the back of his head, just so he could watch Peter. Peter gave no other indication of his intentions throughout the event, just the foot and his inappropriate wink to the bride.

And then there was Harry. George accidentally caught sight of his favorite brother, the only brother he was ever remotely close to; watching Mary the entire time the service was in progress. Others, even Peter, at one time or another looked about or glanced around, bored with the ceremony and vows. But not Harry, he held his gaze toward Mary with a simple smile, contented in her beauty. George waved his hand in front of his brother's face, trying to make him at least blink, but to no avail. Harry was lost in a dream, a dream where he was standing there in front of the priest, marrying his brother's wife. And when father Christopher pronounced Mary and himself, husband and wife, and introduced them to those gathered as, "Mr. and Mrs. George Darling," Harry finally closed his eyes and sighed in a melancholy disappointment, which George had found baffling at this time replayed in his memory.

Not wanting to desecrate the dream with his fears, he let it play out one time in full without disturbing one detail. It came to him so infrequently in his slumber that he wanted to relish the memory of Mary in white on that fateful day. As the priest pronounced them man and wife once again, Nana stood at the back of the dream church and began to bark.

Mary, who was but a memory, as was everyone else present but George, ignored her. Nana's incessant barking was ignored, causing her to run the up the aisle and crash into the new Mr. and Mrs. George Darling as their lips met. "Mary, Nana's barking..."

"Mary, did you hear me? The dog, she'll wake the whole house. You'd best get up, she probably needs to be walked." George opened his eyes and fixed his spectacles on his face. He looked over and saw Mary's side of the bed empty. He got up and opened the door to his bedroom. Instantly, Nana charged him and put her paws up on him. Still groggy, George muttered, "Be quiet, Nana, go to bed." But still she barked and began to howl in a high-pitched tone, which made a frustrated George yank her by the collar and drag her down the hall to the stairs. As they passed the bathroom, Nana broke free of him and began to jump up onto the door, trying to gain access. That was the moment George noticed his slippers were wet from the water that poured out from underneath the washroom door.

His first thought was that, in the morning, he would need to pay a plumber to come and fix a leaky sink. "All right Nana!" he yelled, as she continued to bark and now ran in circles as if insane. He went for the doorknob and found it locked. Someone was inside, and when he pounded on it and called for Mary to help him, neither the person who was running the water nor his wife responded. "GRANDPA JOE!" he yelled, or rather shrieked, and began throwing himself on the door to get in. Grandpa Joe leapt from his bed, as well as John and Michael, who all came running. "Mary..." George managed as Michael pushed his father out of the way, "Stand back" he commanded and kicked the door in.

In the washroom of the Darling house, submerged in water, Mary rested at the bottom of the tub. Tiny bubbles escaping from her nose floated lazily to the top as the faucet continued to pour out water. George lifted her up and out and laid her down on the cold tile floor. "She's not breathing!" he cried as he put his face to her nose and mouth. Wendy, hearing the door broken from its hinges, ran down the stairs from the attic and found her father clutching her naked, wet mother on the floor of the washroom. Her mother was a lady, and so was she, and she grabbed a large bath towel from the hall closet and covered her mother. "She'll be angry when she wakes up and finds out we all saw her naked." Wendy tried to make a joke to break the tension of the situation that lay lifeless on the tile floor.

Michael fled from the house in his pajamas and ran blocks away to get Uncle Harry. He broke down his door, too, with one swift kick and dragged him back to the house. Mary had stirred when George began to shake her, and she coughed and choked up water. Harry could not keep up with his young nephew, and when he stopped by a lamppost to catch his breath, Michael, taller than George and John, and built like a man made to go to war, hoisted him up and carried him all the way home. "Mother drowned in the tub," John reported as Harry entered on Michael's shoulder and was set down. He took to the stairs and into the hall where they had moved her.

George cradled her like a baby and was weeping, asking what to do. She stopped breathing again after hacking up the water and was unresponsive. Her lips were blue, and when Harry opened her eyelids, her eyes were rolled back into her head. "We must turn her on her side."

George set her down gently and Harry rolled her and began pounding on her back. She choked up more water, almost a quart, and then began to suck in air, struggling to perform the function the body does naturally. "Take her to the bed," Harry told them.

He moved to follow George, but Grandpa Joe stepped in front of him, "When was the last time you took to the bottle?"

Harry stood to his full height in his nightclothes that were dirty and full of holes and responded, "I haven't had a drink since Mary told me not drink anymore, because she won't have any drunks in her family." Grandpa Joe nodded and stepped aside.

Now came the hard part. John, Michael and Wendy stood outside their parents' room and waited. Muffled voices of George and Harry were heard, but not a sound from their mother.

The bell rang and Grandpa Joe, waiting in the parlor smoking his pipe, answered. "We have someone here on their deathbed, I'll come as soon as I can," he responded to whomever came unannounced in the middle of the night. "Mary Elizabeth." The answer to the question of whom. Then, "Whatever you tell them, don't tell them that." The door shut and the midnight caller was gone back into the night. At first dawn, the midnight caller again returned. This time Grandpa Joe informed them, "I will not leave this house until I have assurance of my only child's condition."

At dawn, Uncle Harry left George and Mary's bedroom, the look on his face made all the children break down. Hearing his grandchildren, Grandpa Joe slowly took step-by-step up only close enough to see Harry looking down at him. "Please. Please she's my baby, I held Mary Elizabeth when she was born, I watched my daughter grow up and have babies of her own. I've seen everything that's happened to my Mary Elizabeth in her life. But as her father, I'm not supposed to see her put in the ground. I can't see her put in the ground..." Grandpa Joe was not a man of tears or open emotion, but as the sun rose he fell and let all that he kept bottled up inside out. Uncle Harry embraced Grandpa Joe and told him, "George wants to speak with you Sir."

Important people are said to die in threes. The morning paper listed on the front page that Sir Edward Quiller Couch died the day before, Sunday – the Lord's day - while at home, oddly enough, reading the morning paper. His wife, overcome with grief and shock dropped dead as well. "That's horrible, George, when are the funerals?" George read down a little further in the article for the information, "Tomorrow at Westminster Abbey, by invitation only." He responded flipping through to check on other items not as news worthy. "Ah look, the stocks are up again."

George, being the bank manager on leave from his post, was invited, so with his brother Harry as escort, he went. Grandpa Joe returned home from Millicent's house that same day and came to the somber silence he left the morning Mary was found in the tub. As Grandpa Joe walked to the house, he decided his crying must cease, and once again he should be the strong one, at least in front of the children. Wendy sat at the piano, but would not play. John sat at his father's desk and balanced the accounts for the funeral of the third important person who was to be buried on Wednesday. Michael stood guard outside his parents' bedroom door, a soldier in mourning; he nodded to Grandpa Joe as he came up the stairs. He wanted to see Mary, but couldn't find the strength, so he went into his room and cried some more.

George came home and he, who had lived through everything, went to his wife and stayed there until late in the evening.

"Did you tell her about the funeral?"

"I didn't have the courage to tell her she passed in the night. She'll never forgive herself for not getting the chance to say good-bye."

Harry sat with Grandpa Joe in the parlor. The children held the same posts as George descended the stairs to answer the bell. His father-in-law rose and met him at the bottom. "Just let me see Mary Elizabeth before you make the arrangements with the undertaker," Grandpa Joe asked.

George nodded, eyes red, before greeting his old friend from the apartment of years ago who came calling. "George, long time no see, too bad its under such horrible circumstances, really sorry for your loss."

Grandpa Joe opened the door of Mary and George's bedroom. There on the bed lay Mary, dressed in her beautiful silk nightgown and robe. "You look like a queen lying there like that, all you need is a crown and glass slippers, Mary Elizabeth," he whispered.

He touched her face and held her hand. "Such soft skin, look, your nails grew back, you always keep them so pretty and long. No one would ever know you do all the housework with hands like these."

He gently unwrapped the silk scarf she had on her head and ran his fingers through her short hair. "I told you not to cut your hair, ladies should keep their hair long. I should have spanked you like a child when you came home that day."

He moved his fingertips lightly over her flawless face. "Rest well, my angel from heaven, rest well." Grandpa Joe left the room, closing the door softly and went straight for his room. Try as he might, the tears came again, and he asked not to be disturbed, leaving George to make the arrangements worthy of a lady of high regard.

Wednesday was the day of the funeral. George and his children dressed in black and took a carriage to the church. Grandpa Joe refused to go, and locked himself in his room until the family left. With them gone, he decided to say his own good-byes at the park, the last place he saw the dearly departed in her happiest times.

As the Darling family entered the church and filed forward to the front row nearest the elegant coffin that sat in the front, hundreds swarmed around them and offered their condolences. Margaret brought her baby Martine, who cried the entire time, wanting nothing more than to held by her grandmother, Aunt Millicent. Uncle Harry was also in attendance having borrowed one of George's suits, but remained in the back, afraid of God and his wrath. They followed the processional to the cemetery where the priest consecrated the ground and gave the signal for the casket to be lowered. George, a man of good nature and strength, held his family up as the coffin was lowered. When all was said and done, one of Aunt Millicent's closest friends commented, "Fret not, George, death is quite becoming on her."

For the first time, the Darling house was completely empty. It had once belonged to the Bakers and before that, the Smiths, but never in all its years since being constructed was there not at least one person there at all times. The lady of the house, Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, knew in some bizarre way that she would die there. Even as a small child, when she lay in bed at night, in the room that she shared with George, as her last breath escaped her, the ceiling above would the last thing she would see. She was only a child then, and a woman now, and in her thoughts she saw George in her view -- or so she hoped. That night she was found in the bathtub confirmed the visions, for as she took in air that seemed to go no further than her mouth, before the light came to retrieve her, George was there, looking down with tear filled eyes, pleading to God in a mimed silence, the last thing she saw before the all-encompassing white.

There was now darkness and no sound. The quiet that enveloped her was broken when she heard the ticking of the clock that hung in upstairs hall. The wind blew and rattled the window and the back gate in the yard creaked open.

_My Darling Love George,_

_I'm sorry I have been unable to speak with you sooner, but my parents have locked me in my bedroom and would not let me out or receive visitors. Penny informed me of my father threats, and although I am sure he is sincere, and the risk very grave, I must ask you to be as valiant as you were the day you saved me, for I need your courageous rescue once again._

_It pains me to write this on a simple piece of stationery, for I have dreamed of this moment since the day I met you. I planned out every detail of when and how what I am about to pen would come to pass. I planned to tell you in the park on the bench where we first kissed, or over a delicious dinner I would have cooked especially for you in our very own home. And all for naught, for I will not even be the one who gets to hand deliver this note to you._

_On the night we made love, or more accurately, the following morning, I conceived a child, our child. You must not worry over the expenses of our new addition or my condition. I have a funny little bump on my belly that has been showing me the first signs of life, growing within for some time now. This morning as I lay back on my bed and stretched, I felt a movement from the tiny baby letting me know that today is the day I should tell you. I'm praying for a baby girl that will have your blue eyes and kind heart. I am a little queasy, but I'm sure its nervousness, and nothing to be concerned with. I have not yet told my parents, as you are my husband in God's eyes, and I honor my vow to obey you and I await your good judgment and command._

_With All of My Love,_

_Your devoted wife,_

_Mary Elizabeth_

_Penny,_

_Please go to the bank at one o'clock and give this to George on his lunch break. Have him read it and wait until he is finished. Make sure he doesn't faint, and assure him of my love, my health and that in no way am I angry with him. Ask him to pick a date for the wedding and as soon as he tells you, please let me know._

_With Love,_

Mary 

"What date did you pick?" Wendy was reading over her father's shoulder, both their eyes still reddened. George had opened his dream drawer in his desk earlier in the morning, and now reread the letter as they sat in Aunt Millicent's parlor where refreshments were served after the funeral.

"I chose the last Saturday in November. I wanted to marry your mother in the spring or summer, but her best friend told me you would be ready to come by then."

Wendy took her mother's letter from her father, and ran her hand over her mother's penmanship, "Was she not worried that you would attempt to flee from your responsibilities?"

George turned full around to his only daughter, shocked by her question, then suddenly his face softened. "We never thought of you or your brothers as a responsibility to be dealt with. We looked at you as gifts from God that were to be cherished and appreciated. So no, your mother never had to worry that I would flee anywhere, for the only place I ever wanted to be was with her."

After the guests left, George walked through Millicent's house and took note of all her worldly belongings. It took all the wealth in the world to make her mildly happy, and even then, she dragged herself like it was an unpleasant chore to their home for supper every night. "In all the years I have been married to your mother, I have never dined here once, and she keeps four chefs on staff," George told John who came to retrieve his father, now lost in the house. "There are more rooms in this manor than one could shake a stick at, it looks like a museum of sorts. Amazing, that she lived here all these years and this house looks unlived in."

John nodded his agreement and added, "What a waste."

Grandpa Joe waited on the front porch for his family to return. They slowly walked up the street and up the steps. "How did it go?" Grandpa Joe asked George as he put his key in the lock and unbolted the front door.

"One of Millicent's many friends said death was quite becoming on her." The children entered first as George shook his head over how crude Millicent's friends could be. John and Michael took to the stairs to clean out the nursery, and Wendy went into the kitchen to sort through all the food that was sent from the neighbors, so that in their time of grief, no one would be required to cook a single meal.

George looked up the staircase with reservation, and took to the steps at a hurried pace. He met John and Michael carrying boxes to and from the nursery as he reached his bedroom door. "Best to get it over with." George raised his head with more of a question than an affirmation. He turned the knob and stepped inside quickly closing the door behind him. He looked to the bed, and closed his eyes before finding the courage to step further into the room. George went to Mary's vanity table and sat down, leaning his elbow on the glass and resting his chin on his hand.

"You look very funny sitting there like that."

It was dark in the room, for not one lamp was lit. George slowly turned, and there on the bed, where he had left her that morning, was Mary still dressed in her silk nightgown and robe. She sat up and stretched, and every part of her body ached from head to toe. She took a good long look at her husband, who now stared back with a blank expression, trying to hide a secret. Mary no longer cared for secrets, and knowing something was amiss, or worse dreadfully wrong, she asked, "George, what is it? The children? My father? It was so quiet in the house today, where was everyone?"

George stood and went to her on the bed and held her hands tightly. He gazed deeply into her eyes and gave her the only grin he could muster, "Mary, a few nights ago, your Aunt Millicent died."


	39. Chapter 39 The Nothing

My Darling Love

Chapter 39 – The Nothing

"_A part of you has grown in me, together forever we shall be, never apart, maybe in distance, but not in the heart."_

_-Anonymous_

Mary laughed as if it were a joke he had made to lighten her mood, she found quite funny. She was the only one laughing, and although she was still exhausted, and had been prescribed complete bed rest, she slowly got up and began to dress. "I'll just go over there myself. She probably just...just has a bad cold."

George stood behind his wife and embraced her with all his might. "She is not sick, Mary Elizabeth. She got up in the middle of the night and tripped in her bedroom. She fell very hard and hurt her head."

Mary pulled from George's embrace and continued dressing. "That's because she leaves her shoes all over the room. I'm always telling her to put them in the closet, but she never listens. She's not dead. She probably has a bad bruise on her face and doesn't want to be seen. Margaret is probably upset because Martine is driving her mad without any help; you know how Millicent is with infants. I'll just go over there and--"

George pulled Mary back around to him and clutched her tightly to his chest. "Mary, she's not home. She died, and is now buried in the ground."

Again Mary pushed him away and went to her vanity table. She sat down and began fixing her hair, "No one dies from falling on the bedroom floor, George, don't be foolish." George sat on the bed and watched her; she used her brush to straighten the length of the hair, that which still remained. Going to bed with it wet and as short as it was, her hair now stuck up and out in all the wrong places, and, try as she might, there was no way to tidy it. "Well, I have to bathe because my hair is just not cooperating. Can you call Wendy to help me, George?"

She rose too quickly and got lightheaded, swaying. George jumped up to catch her, and she landed safely in his arms. "You are not supposed to be out of bed, Mary Elizabeth." He lifted her up and carried her to their bed to lay her down. He now spoke gently to her, holding both of her hands in his. "Your Aunt Millicent did not fall on her bedroom floor. She fell off her bedroom balcony to the street below."

Mary gave George a quizzical look, "How did she do that? Why would she do that? Were her shoes on the balcony George?" George looked away, trying to determine the best way to explain the events that transpired leading to Millicent's untimely demise.

"George, where are Margaret and Martine?"

That was easy to answer. "They are downstairs. They will be moving into the nursery. Michael will be moving into Grandpa Joe's room with him, and, as you know, John will be staying at the university. But for now, he will sleep on the sofa in parlor." George swallowed the knot in his throat and thought of a quick explanation to ease Mary's mind over her aunt, a falsehood that could be clarified later when she was better, "Aunt Millicent went out of the balcony to get her shoes and tripped off over the edge."

It was finally beginning to dawn on Mary that her aunt truly was dead. "That's horrible, George! What a freak accident, and she just became a grandmother!" George felt very uncomfortable about lying, and felt even worse when Mary began to cry. "I never made my peace with her, George. The last time I saw her, I stuck a stocking in her mouth and tied her to a chair, then I struck her. Did you say she is already buried? I didn't even go the funeral, how wretched of me!" Mary's memory was clouded from being so weary for so long,

"No, Mary, you made your peace with Aunt Millicent. Don't you remember, in the parlor downstairs after I came home? You hugged and kissed and you both apologized. She's been here with Margaret and Martine every day since then. You were too sick to go the funeral. Your Aunt Millicent would have understood that."

Mary now remembered, and his soothing words made her feel better, and jogged her memory further, lifting the clouds. "Why are Margaret and Martine not staying at Millicent's? Probably too big for just the two of them." Mary grabbed George's arm as her inspiration hit, "George, I'm sure Millicent left Margaret her home. Instead of selling it and banking the money for a rainy day, why not move in there ourselves?"

George smiled to his wife, still in the dark, and replied, "We can't move into your Aunt Millicent's home, Mary."

"You're right, it's rightfully Margaret's, and when she marries, she will want the money from that home for her family and not her poor relations." Mary lowered her head defeated. "Did Aunt Millicent bequeath anything to me?" Mary looked up and tilted her eyes to get a better view of George's face hidden behind his hands he was rubbing his head with.

"Nothing," he responded.

"What do you mean -- nothing? She at least left something for the children?"

"She left them nothing."

Mary was stunned and furious, she attempted to get out of bed once more, but George grabbed her by the wrist and made her sit back down. "She left them nothing, nothing at all. All the time she spent here, all the food she ate from our table, all the rude comments and condemnations she made and she left nothing to us? What did she do with all her money then?" Mary demanded.

George looked flustered as he moved his hands back to Mary's. He lay beside his wife on the bed, both resting on their backs and stared at the ceiling without speaking. His falsehood would need clarification this very moment, not only to straighten out the lie, but also to help Mary get beyond the loss, and forgive her Aunt so she could rest in peace. "Millicent spent it, Mary, all her money, everything. Every last cent, she has nothing. That's why she left us nothing."

Mary started to laugh so hard she began to cough. "Nothing? Really, George, you are so funny! Perhaps it is you that is looking at the wrong books! With all her investments, and her stocks and bonds -- you must be jesting with me, George! She left her money to the Church, didn't she? Probably having one of those elaborate windows installed with her name on the bottom. I won't be angry, you can tell me."

Once again George did not share his wife's hilarity. "No, Mary, there will be no windows in the church with her name on it. Mary, she was broke. Grandpa Joe was using his retirement money to support her lifestyle for years. Mary, you knew that. Not only did he pay the servants' salaries, he paid for _everything_. He had her on an allowance, and Margaret on one as well. She ate here with us all the time because she couldn't afford to buy groceries. All those garden parties and lunches with her friends she delighted in, apparently she was infamous for never paying her part of the check by conveniently forgetting her purse. She'd made bad investments; she never listened to me when I told her there is no way possible in this day and age to get rich quickly, and without careful consideration of the new companies that are closed and bankrupt before they even open. Her lawyers stole whatever funds she had not lost in the market. There is no home for Margaret to sell and save for rainy days because tomorrow the bank will foreclose on it. She spent all the money, everything. When the cash in her accounts was gone, she borrowed on everything she owned to get more money. When that ran out, she asked me for her jewels back, I gave her the account and she drained that as well. Then she began borrowing money from your father. She was so embarrassed and humiliated and worried over what the neighbors would think, not to mention her society friends when her loans were called in, the she threw herself..." George choked on the words, unable to finish.

"She threw herself out a window," Mary whispered, dumbfounded.

"...Because she didn't want to impose on us. Although we had forgiven her a hundred times over, she never forgave herself. She was terrified at the thought of taking anything more from our family, especially a room in our home. That is what it said in her will that she had drawn up that very morning. She never discussed that decision with anyone, not your father or me, or even Margaret. She didn't have to move in here with us, I would have had Harry move in, and she could have taken his flat. We would have made do."

Mary sighed, and George shrugged his shoulders. "Margaret and Martine also received nothing, as did her brother, your father. I checked all her books, the bankbooks, the loan ledgers, everything, and there is nothing. I had to pay for her entire funeral, the reception afterwards, and her grave marker, because she begged in her will that she be buried next to her husband in church cemetery and not in potter's field."

Mary leaned her head against his shoulder. "Oh George, what did you have written on the headstone?"

George removed his spectacles and closed his eyes, "Nothing, she only said I had to pay for the headstone. She willed that I have nothing written upon it."

George returned to work the next day and resumed his post as manager of the bank. Mary stayed abed for a week, as prescribed, and enjoyed every minute of it. Wendy helped Margaret with the baby, and Grandpa Joe and the boys did what they had to, to bring normalcy back to the home.

The Darling house was full now, over crowded, no vacancies. There was no privacy to be found anywhere except the basement; that was no more than a dirt hole that smelled moldy and unlivable. The table was full at breakfast and dinner, and Mary felt as though she had enlisted in the army and was commissioned as their full time cook -- not to mention slave. That situation was resolved quickly when George demanded, "Everyone who lives in this house will clean their own room. With the exception of Michael, John and Grandpa Joe, everyone else will do their own laundry. We will all take turns each day doing the washing up after dinner. And every Saturday, we all will help my wife clean the house from top to bottom. That includes dusting, mopping and scrubbing the floors, shaking out the rugs, scouring the bathroom, and everything else that needs to be done to keep order within these walls. When we are finished, we all will go eat together as a family at a restaurant."

It was very different with adults out and about day and night, coming and going as they pleased. Children were much easier to look after, even if they were at times intertwined in their own worlds of fantasy. Mary could pull them back into reality and down to earth at a moment's notice. But the grownups -- Wendy, John and Michael -- were becoming mingled into the real world, and as such, they were harder to track. Mary liked to know where her children were, but found it impossible while making dinner in the kitchen. Someone in the home would leave by the front door, and Mary would find herself racing to the window to catch whomever took flight. That ended, too, when George declared, "This is not a boarding house. It is our family's home. And the rule is, if you want to go out, you must tell someone where you are going and what time to expect you home, no exceptions."

Still, that rule was constantly broken -- unbelievably, by Wendy, all the time. Mary would check on her in the night and find her bed empty, her attic window wide open no matter what the weather. George would question her each morning and Wendy's response was always the same, "I was in the bathroom while mother was up in the attic." Soon enough, Mary stopped going to the attic to save her husband the heartache.

There was definitely no exception for Margaret, who was not given a free ride in Mr. Darling's home. George had never forgiven her for lies against him. He made it quite clear he disliked her, and would not tolerate her in whatever room he was in. She was no longer the young polite lady of proper society who got to sit around looking pretty, "Make no mistake, Margaret, you are not one of my children, nor is your child my grandchild. Therefore, you will use your talents and take a position and contribute to this household by paying room and board. I suggest you start with the florist, I told him you would stopping by this morning."

Fearing he meant a return to the profession of prostitution, she begged Mary for aid in softening George's heart. "Mr. Darling wants to rent me out to his friends, Mrs. Darling, I don't know the florist. I would prefer to work the streets myself, that way I can give the gentlemen the once over and--"

Mary shook her head putting her hands over Margaret's mouth to ease her woes after George left for work. "No, dearest, Mr. Darling meant you should apply at florist who needs an assistant in the flower shop, Margaret, working the counter, or maybe the florist will teach you to make arrangements for customers. You are truly blessed with a green thumb, and I must say my flower garden has never bloomed so beautifully. Mr. Darling would only ever want you to have a respectable profession, dearest."

Margaret followed Mary's advice, and, with George's recommendation, was a given a position. She showed him her first paycheck, and George made her put right in the bank to save for her daughter.

Margaret was so pleased she kissed him right on the cheek. Poor George turned red, and Margaret successfully softened his heart all by herself. He took a portion of her pay every week and paid Wendy for watching Martine, which Wendy promptly returned to Margaret. What was left, George put into a trust account for Martine. He explained to his wife it was to soothe the worries over finances she never had, "I make enough to support the house, and as soon as John graduates from university, he will also bring more money home for us. It's silly to make Margaret pay to live here with her daughter. If she were not staying in the nursery, we would have a big empty room upstairs, and I would never rent it out. She needs our help, Mary, to get on her feet, with no family left."

Mary nodded, reassuring him of her trust in his good judgment, and also kissed his cheek. George would never consider Margaret his family, nor would he ever refer to her as such. But his help in establishing her in a good job, providing food and comfort for her and her daughter, and keeping her safe from harm, made her mother Penny smile down from heaven.

The summer months passed quickly into autumn, and John left for university, but not before an innocent flirtation developed with Margaret. No one took notice with so many other things going on inside the humble home -- well, almost no one. Wendy caught them kissing in her room, the attic, of all places. Both her brother and a giggly Margaret separately confided their romance to her, and made her swear to secrecy, to hold her tongue. "Father would never allow it under his roof. I don't think he likes Margaret, not one bit."

Wendy reluctantly agreed, not to the liking part, more so to "under his roof." She concurred further herself, "Mother and Father would never tolerate any of us 'playing house' in their home."

John came home every weekend and slept on the sofa without complaint. Whenever Mary and George turned their head elsewhere, both young lovers would smile and wink to each other.

Wendy's beauty matured, and soon she was one of the most sought-after young ladies of London. She was unexpectedly shy, and did not receive suitors in her home. Mary asked after her constant refusal of the gentlemen who wanted to call on her, fearing her family embarrassed her. "Don't be ridiculous, Mother. I just don't think much after marriage and babies. Dealing with a man seems far too complicated, and helping with Martine has given me enough experience to know I am not the mothering type."

When Mary was Wendy's age, she was already wed with one child, and would not have had it any other way. She was sure that, had she never met George, she still would have been married with one child by the time she was nineteen, no matter what. But seeing the strong will and independent streak in her only daughter made her proud, but still concerned. "You should not discard the idea of marriage and having children of your own, Wendy, lest you die a spinster and be buried with only a blank headstone marking your place on this earth. You must remember, once your father and I are gone, you will have only yourself, for I am sure both your brothers will be married with their own families. And I doubt very highly dearest Wendy you would want to follow in Aunt Millicent's footsteps..."

Michael was only fifteen, but he had the mind of a man of thirty. He had tried unsuccessfully to enlist in the army, but the age restrictions said he would not be accepted until he was eighteen. "I still think you need to concentrate on your school work, Michael, and attend University for a degree. Even if you do enter the royal army, you will need a profession when you are discharged from service."

Michael had a different disposition than his brother and sister. Wendy took after Mary, and John was George's duplicate. Michael was more like the grandfather he never met. He had an iron will, to attain whatever he wanted, and he had already decided when he was married, his wife would live under his rules.

"Father needs to be more strict with mother, that's his problem," he declared one day to his grandfather. "He sees her as an equal to him, and she's not. She just a wife and mother who gets to stay home all day."

Grandpa Joe puffed on his pipe and chuckled, "If your father had to pay your mother for all her hard work of being a wife and mother, we'd all be in the poorhouse. I can't think of any other job where you never get a day off."

The Christmas Holiday was over and the birthdays from March to July came and went. Before anyone took notice, it was Christmas again. Wendy and Margaret were both twenty and still living at home. John was eighteen and lived at University full time now. He received an internship at a bank near the school, and worked on the weekends to help his father pay his tuition. Michael was sixteen now, and could no longer wait to join his majesty's service; he stole his brother's birth certificate and went off to join the army.

It was turning into a somber season that was about to get more depressing. Margaret and her daughter announced that they would move to a small flat above the flower shop where she worked right after the New Year. She delivered this news over the dinner table on Christmas Eve, right before Wendy proclaimed she had decided to use her savings -- the savings George was to entrust her with for the day she turned twenty-one -- to travel the world. "The only way to gain experiences for the adventures I am to write of is to have them!"

Mary and George looked at one another, and when the children got up from the table, they counted together the empty chairs. Wendy their oldest, one. John their first son and second child, two. Michael their second son and baby, three. Margaret, their ward, four, and Martine, her daughter, five. All that remained were the two chairs they sat in and Grandpa Joe, who now noticed their faces and offered to cheer them, "Think of how big this house will be with all the children grown up and finally gone. No more tripping over toys, no more bumping into others in the hall, no line for the bathroom, and I can finally take a hot bath again, with plenty of hot water. No more children screaming at each other, no more endless dirty dishes from breakfast to supper, no more afternoons spent at the washboard, no more additional expenses."

Those words only saddened Mary further. As she got up from the table, she said, "No more children laughing, no more babies to hug and kiss, no more birthday parties, no more tripping over toys, no more Saturdays at the park, no more helping the children with their homework, and no more bedtime fairy."

The spring came, and just like Grandpa Joe predicted, the children were gone and the house they now lived in seemed too big. There was no one to bump into in the halls and no lines to use the bathroom in the evening. It would have been paradise, had the Darling house not been so quiet. No laughing, nothing getting knocked over or broken, no one shouting as they walked out the front door, "I'm going out. I'll be back later!" Wendy was not there to play the piano, and John was not there to engage his father in conversations about stocks and bonds. Margaret was gone and so was her constant yelling at Martine to behave. No more temper tantrums from the small child who had a great deal of her father hidden in her. Michael, who never said much, never even said good-bye, sneaking out the back door in the middle of the night. Grandpa Joe was now completely bored without having to entertain an influx of his grandchildren and their friends, and started to help Mary with her chores.

But now that there was no longer the crowd of people mixing about, there was no longer a mess. So by late morning, they were done with their work and sat in the parlor, Grandpa Joe puffing on his pipe, reading, and Mary doing her needlepoint and mending of the imaginary holes in George's socks. George was bored as well, and found it hard to sleep with the house so quiet. He took on another job of sorts, balancing the books of his friends and neighbors, as he had when he was first married and working a second job for the undertaker. He was skilled in finding the errors, which, for the most part, put money back in the pocket of his clients. He soon became the most sought-after accountant in the entire neighborhood, and spent the better part of his free time at his desk balancing ledgers and checkbooks, bringing in the only new conversations into the house. "The Smiths paid the butcher for the same order of meat three times. That is why I always say that we should pay the butcher at the time of sale, Mary, and not weekly as he has asked. I hear he is a gambler and uses his customer's accounts to cover his losses. I think we should inquire after another butcher shop. They are popping up all over London."

None of the children ran away in an attempt to keep themselves from growing up, no, they went away to grow up. "They are adults now, it's selfish to ask them to stay here with us. This is what parents are supposed to want, for their children to develop into adults that have their own lives," Mary told George who, surprisingly, took their departure from him the hardest. "There will only be a short time between when they leave and when they return married with children. Grandchildren, George, and we are both still so young." They were no longer so young, rather middle aged, Mary was forty and George was forty-seven. Twenty-one years had come and gone since they were married and became first-time parents. "I wonder how long it will be until there are babies again?" Mary asked, as she dreamed of being an older woman with gray hair and little versions of her own children (with slight differences from their daughters-in-law and son-in-law) for her to love.

"I think John will marry first," George remarked, as he readied for bed.

Mary had her heart set on Wendy, she being the eldest and she told him. "No George, Wendy will marry first."

"I hate to say this, because it sounds vaguely familiar, but I fear our Wendy will die a spinster author of trashy romance novels. And her reputation, Mary..." George replied as he removed his spectacles and rested his head on his pillow.

Mary snuggled up next to him and ran her hand down his chest, "You know, George, I was thinking, with children gone, maybe we could have another baby."

George's eyes had been closing, but now went wide-eyed with his wife's baffling comment. "Mary, dearest, you can't have any more babies."

Mary looked at George, just as astonished by his remark as he was to her suggestion. "Why not? We could still have another baby if we wanted to." Mary got up from the bed and went to her wardrobe, and removed a box full of the children's baby things she kept as mementoes.

George sat up and gazed at his wife with disbelief, "Mary, you cannot have another baby. After Michael was delivered the surgeon removed parts of you that would be required to carry a child. And anyway," he continued shaking his head at her preposterous proposal, "having Michael almost killed you, why would you want to do that to yourself again -- not to mention me?"

Mary shrugged her shoulders not listening to word he was saying. To further his cause, he knelt down before her and took from her the blanket she had wrapped Wendy in when she was first born. "Mary, you are too old to have another baby." He spoke the words very slowly, for he knew what was coming next and braced himself for it.

As the words left his mouth, she lifted her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. "I am not too old for anything, and if I want another baby, I will have one, and you will give it to me!"

George ignored the slap and rose to his feet. "I'm sorry, Mary, there is no way I could ever give you another baby. I am not refusing you as punishment, I telling you there is no way possible that it could ever be. We've made love the same way since Michael was born and you never once conceived. You haven't even had a monthly in years. You must face the reality that you are now barren, and another child is not possible. There is no need to disappoint yourself and dream after baby smells and baby things. There are no more babies for you." He sat back down next to her, wrapping his arm lovingly around her, "There are to be no more babies for me, either, dearest Mary. We are no longer the youngsters we were when we got married. We are not even grown-ups anymore. That time is coming to an end. We must look ahead to being older and getting old. The next baby that you hold will be a grandchild."

Mary's eyes glistened and her heart broke, finally accepting that her children were gone, and there would be no more from her. George kissed her cheek and held onto her tighter as another light bulb went off in her head. "But you promised you would give me as many babies as I wanted, George, and I don't have to bear the baby, we could adopt one. Harry said when he went to Paris; the orphanage was full of babies waiting to be brought home to a loving family. You can go and fetch me one or two of them."

George shook his head vehemently. "No, we always wanted three children, and we had them. They are healthy and happy and have grown up right before our eyes, just like we planned. A new baby will not solve the emptiness you feel inside. Think of how much of a bother Martine was, knocking things over and running about creating chaos. She is an unruly child, who, with all of our best efforts, is still stubborn and disobedient. And I am not going back to Paris again _ever_, Mary."

"That's Margaret's fault, George, after all, Martine is her child. Don't forget she has no father to properly discipline her. Our baby would be different. We would raise it better. And there are plenty of infants in other orphanages that need two loving parents to raise them." Mary smiled, hopeful of persuading him.

George never wanted to hurt Mary, but seeing no other way to end their discussion, he asked, "If Vivian had that baby and asked us to raise it, would you want to?"

Mary paused a moment, then shook her head and breathed a sigh "But not for the reasons you're thinking. You are thinking I would be jealous that she could give you a baby and I couldn't."

George shook his head. That baby was not his, and even the hinting to a 'maybe' was unacceptable. As he was about to speak Mary interrupted, "I know the baby wasn't truly yours, George, and that's not my point. My point is, what would happen if one day after years of us taking care of the child and growing attached to it, she came and wanted the baby back?"

George stuck at his lower lips and tilted his head forward, "That, Mary, was exactly what I was thinking."

"Adopting aside, if I could have another baby, would you want one, George?"

"Honestly, Mary, no. It is a relief to me that this part of our lives is over. Now, it will be just the two of us. That's something we never got a chance to have, we can just rest now and be together, just the two of us."

Mary's found her own mind suddenly racing with the most splendid thoughts. The first moment they laid eyes on each in Mr. Baker's parlor to the that morning in Penny's bed, the morning they made their precious baby Gwendolyn Angelina, was the only time it had only been just the two of them. A few stolen weeks that were spent at most times apart. It was Mary's only regret of her early marriage to George. Never having anytime to spend with just him, and him alone, with no other responsibilities to anyone else in the entire world except each other.

Mary gave George the ecstatic smile he had not seen in years, which left him thunderstruck.

"Really George, just the two us?" He nodded with perplexed mystification. Mary rolled on her side to face him. "That is so lovely, just the two of us! I forgot in the beginning for only moments it was just you and I. Then forever after that it was the children."

George patted her hand and closed his eyes, once again readying himself for slumber, but Mary had other ideas. He heard the swish of cloth and opened them again, seeing her remove her robe and slowly unbutton her nightgown. She cuddled up next to him and whispered, "You know, George, my father is out tonight with your brother Harry. The whole house is empty. It's just you and me, right now."

He watched, fascinated, as she sat up and with her arms spread out. She nodded miming the words "the whole house."

"The whole house? Really?" George asked, both eyes open, clutching his blankets to his neck as protection from the lustful look Mary gave him. Mary still nodded that indeed her words were correct, and smiled in a manner more tempting than Madam Eve's entire coterie. "Why Mary, you look like you are about to eat me up!" George's tone was apprehensive, as Mary now nodded not only her head but also her whole body.

"Yes George, tonight I am going to eat you up."

Mary gently clasped her hands on the blanket George clutched to his neck, still his only means of shielding against her obvious intentions. All at once, she ripped the blanket completely off the bed leaving her husband lying flat in his pajamas. In the same manner she removed his pajama bottoms, flinging them across the room, landing on a lamp near the wardrobe. She slowly worked the buttons of his pajama shirt open, and for each button she unfastened, George jokingly refastened again causing Mary to kneel before him and cross her arms. "Whether you leave your pajama top on or not George, I am going to have my way with you tonight," Mary said to him, quite determined.

"Oh really, Mary?" George replied rather sarcastically. "I think not." He rose from the bed with out his drawers on and walked bare-bottomed out of the room. Mary slumped on the bed in disbelief for a moment, waiting for him to return. He didn't so she slipped on her nightdress and went looking for him. Down the hall, she peeked into each of the rooms. Down the stairs, there was no sign of George in the kitchen or parlor. In the last place she looked, the dining room, George waited, and as she entered, he snatched her from behind and threw her on the table.

"GEORGE!" Mary screamed, shocked as he pushed her down and politely asked, "Do you like this nightgown you're wearing Mary, old isn't it?"

"Yes, it's old...but" Mary mustered as her husband grabbed the top and forcefully ripped it straight down the middle. "GEORGE!" Mary shouted again, the remnants of her favorite silky sheath now destroyed.

George kissed his way from her mouth to her neck to breasts, around the nipples to her navel and down to her womanhood, not missing one inch of her sensitive and extremely ticklish skin. It caused her to giggle, and laugh out loud when he declared, "I think I am the one who will eat you up tonight, and what better place to do it then on my own dining room table?"

Finally, just the two of them, in the days ahead, George and Mary did many more wonderful things together. They entertained their friends in their home, holding merry little get-togethers full of good food, good fun and plenty of wine. They traveled to visit with John, and still had Margaret and her daughter come to Sunday mass with them and stay all day for Sunday supper. Grandpa Joe stayed out of their way, and spent loads of time at George's brother Harry's flat, playing cards and smoking their pipes.

Grandpa Joe returned the favor that Harry had done for George, and helped him get back on his feet. He took Harry clothes shopping and got him a job at a tobacco shop. Harry did have a bit of money of his own, and with his brother's good investments, soon he had enough money, combined with Grandpa Joe, to become partners in their own tobacco shop. Harold ran the shop, Grandpa Joe became his silent partner, which after only a few months of its opening near the hub of business in London, was filled every day. They opened a small pub upstairs that offered card games and a billiard table and a band that played jolly dance tunes, and it became '_the_ place to be' after a hard day of work for bankers, lawyers, doctors and their wives.

Grandpa Joe always chuckled when George and Mary would come home late from spending their evening at H.J.B. Darling Tobacco & Tavern, the name Harry gave his establishment, and run up the stairs to the privacy of their bedchamber. For mornings on end, George would come to breakfast with a smile that ran ear to ear. Where they had previously hid their intimacy in the night, they displayed it openly in their house and out and about in London in broad daylight, and later in the darkness of night. George got into the habit of coming home for lunch to "refresh the Mrs." And Grandpa Joe got into the habit of talking a long walk at that time when his son-in-law was due home for his afternoon delight.

The happiness and contentment ended briefly when Wendy did not come home on her birthday. Mary still made her favorite dinner and a cake, making George sing with her to an empty chair. Mary made a wish for her daughter and blew out the candles, even in her absence.

She might well have spent the rest of the night crying in her room, but George insisted, on Wendy's behalf, that since it was a Saturday night, they should go dancing. "Wendy loves music, she loves to dance, and she would love to see us waltz on her birthday," George insisted, as he slipped a shawl over Mary's shoulders, "Now let's go or we'll miss a good spot on the dance floor, as I am sure there is a line at the pub already."

They were happy on John's birthday, because he came home. He also came home a week later as Mary celebrated her birthday. Michael wrote home from battle, and asked his parents to light a candle and say rosary on his birthday in June, and they did together. Mary lit a candle and said a rosary at every morning mass just for him from then on. Before they knew it, it was summer again, and George was told by the new bank president to take time off for a much needed vacation.

"Where would you like to go, Mary? Shall we go to America to see Wendy? Or shall we travel to see John? We can't see Michael for he's overseas on duty, although I really want to." George debated back and forth over his eggs and bacon in the morning.

"I would love to see Wendy," Mary told him, "but the trip there is too long, not to mention we do not know exactly where she is. They must not postmark the letters sent from there and she never gives a specific location, very strange of her. You only have a week off from work. This may sound horrible and God forgive me, but we see John all the time. I swear we see him more now than we did when he lived here. And Michael, well, I plan on giving him a good talking to when he gets home. Why don't we just stay home and relax?"

George shook his head, "No, we should go somewhere. We never had a honeymoon."

Mary looked up from her plate, "We had Pa--..."

Before she could get the location out, George raised his hand to shush her. "No, that was not our honeymoon."

Mary fell silent, understanding completely.

George was reading his paper and caught Mary's saddened expression, having raised the specter of old ghosts long buried. "What I meant, dear, Paris was not the honeymoon we would have had if we'd gotten married without the worry of our parents' disapproval, and you being expectant with Wendy." He put down his paper and turned his full attention to Mary. "Where do you think we would have gone on our honeymoon, had we gotten married like we were supposed when we first got engaged, when everyone was happy for us?"

Mary pursed her lips in and thought about it, "Probably just the countryside, maybe to a small cottage near the shore."

George lifted his paper and continued reading, "I think you are correct, and that's where we should go. We shall pretend to be newlyweds. Yes, we'll tell everyone we just got married and are on our honeymoon." Mary liked that suggestion, and she agreed.


	40. Chapter 40 Something Old, Something New

My Darling Love

Chapter 40 – Something Old Something New

"_When one door of happiness closes, another opens._

_But often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us."_

_-Helen Keller_

George and Mary spent their summer vacation in the countryside of England, near the ocean in a tiny cottage. As George had suggested, they told everyone they met that they were newlyweds. On the train to the small town where they would be spending the week, they both daydreamed about the honeymoon they'd never had, and envisioned what lay ahead for them, once they settled in and began their holiday. For Mary, it was the unbridled passion and experimentation, like their first married night together, only now multiplied by seven glorious days. George fancied the same thing, but only after their first night there, they discovered something that, in this stage of their life, had become more important than relentless lovemaking.

The simple pleasure of the other's company -- no matter what they did -- brought them more joy than rolling around under the covers. Aside from Paris, neither one had traveled anywhere outside of the world of London. Only a few miles away from home, there was more to do and see together than they ever imagined. They ate all their meals out, and danced the nights away. During the day, they took long walks through the grassy hillsides and went swimming in the sea. "I didn't know you could swim, George," Mary called out as they strolled back onto the shore and rested on the sand.

"I didn't know either, Mary," he replied

Endless conversations of all things insignificant kept them up all night long, and left them sleeping in each other's arms well into the morning. They had tea on the patio, sitting on wickers chairs, basking in the sun, cooled by the light breeze. "This is where I want to die, Mary," the only melancholy comment made. And that sentiment had both the newlywed Mr. and Mrs. George Darling, thinking of their own mortality and their vows they'd spoken that still rang true. "One day death will part us," Mary sighed, and George, doing his very best, lightened the mood.

"Best you die first, Mary, that way I can remarry and have another honeymoon as lovely as this."

Instead of a grin from his wife, he received a glare, so he added, "No, Mary, being here with you is what makes it so lovely."

His flippant remark did make Mary reflect for a moment and respond, "You know, George, if I were to die before you, I would want you to remarry." George slowly turned his head toward his wife with a peculiar expression, but before he could answer, she continued, "If you never remarried it would be insulting to me, almost as if you didn't enjoy being my husband. I think that if I died and you immediately remarried another, you would pay me a compliment, that you liked being married so much that you would not be able to survive without a wife."

George sat for a moment, considering her words, "Would it not bother you -- the idea that I lived on without you?"

"Why no, George, I would expect nothing less than you to go on without me. I would want you to be happy and love and be loved. After all our years together, the last thing you deserve is to be alone. If I were not there, and we were parted in death, then I trust in your good judgment to find another just as good if not better then myself to take my place," Mary replied with a smile. "But certainly, not until then," she added coyly.

George didn't know what to say to those words from his devoted wife, so he said nothing.

They did make love, every morning in their bed, or on the floor in the kitchen, or in the bath. In the afternoon, it was on the grassy slopes that ran down the coast for miles. At sunset, it was on the beach, in the sand, and this is where Mary wanted to die, holding tightly to George as the sun drifted off into the horizon.

As they lay side-by-side, out of breath, but quite content, Mary giggled, "Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could retire? All our days could be like this."

George thought it was a good idea, and he also thought of the expense. He had a retirement fund set aside, as well as accounts for the house expenses and ready cash for "rainy days." The cost of living kept increasing, as did his deposits, so as he had for his entire life thus far, he scoffed at the fantasy of taking the leisure time necessary to calculate his ledgers and replied, and "I won't be able to retire for at least another ten years, Mary. Think of the children."

Through their entire marriage Mary never thought of anything other than the children and George, not even herself. Now she did, and she answered, "The children are grown, George, and they don't think of us. Wendy travels the world and does not even think of us enough to write, John is at university and will marry, I'm sure, when he graduates, and Michael enlisted in the army and is overseas without our consent. The only person home is Grandpa Joe, and he spends most of his time with your brother Harry. At least look at your books when we go home. Ten years is awfully long time to wait, and who knows where we will be then?"

George worked on the same schedule at the bank for many years before sitting down and balancing his retirement books, including books he made deposits into but never thought of. He always worried about cutting costs, so the Darlings never had a maid or butler, chef or launderer or nanny to pay, but still George paid imaginary people into a specific account each week, just to get into the habit if the opportunity to have one ever arose. The Darling family, in all their years, only went on one vacation, to America, but just the same, George saved for trips away that never happened. Learning a valuable lesson when Mary was ill, George always had several accounts at ready hand to dip into if anyone ever got sick and required hospitalization. Mary was the only one ever sick, and only stayed in the hospital one other time. Therefore there was quite a lot of money hidden there as well.

Mr. Darling had many "what if?" accounts, as he called them, collecting interest, just sitting there in the bank. What if Mary does have another baby? What if she birthed twins or triplets? What if the house burns down? What if the bank burns down? What if a long lost relative arrives and begs for a loan? What if one of the children is kidnapped and there is a ransom demanded? What if all the children get kidnapped and multiple ransoms are demanded? What if Grandpa Joe decides he wants to move out into his own home and needs the cash to purchase one? What if I get killed in a freak accident? What if Mary ran away with younger, handsomer, wealthier gentleman and I am left with three children to raise by myself, my father-in-law and family pet, to which Mary gasped, "GEORGE!" while slapping the back of his head.

"Sorry Mary, I had to think of everything..." George lovingly reminded as his wife pulled out ledger after ledger of The Darling Family savings accounts from her husband's desk the week they arrived home from their honeymoon. "Please George, for me. Just to have an idea as to if and when retirement would be possible." A few days later, Friday evening to be exact, George conceded and began his bookkeeping of their believed meager savings and modest low-risk investments.

George finished going over accounts late on Sunday afternoon, removing his spectacles and abruptly standing and chasing up the stairs to his bedroom. Mary, knitting a winter sweater and Grandpa Joe, puffing his pipe, watched him, and shrugged their shoulders. He came back down, and put on his spare pair of glasses on his nose, the pair with the cracked frame, and looked over the numbers again.

"Mary," he turned to his wife dumbfounded, "according to my records, I should have retired ten years ago."

Mary rose from her chair and leaned over him to see his arithmetic. "Oh George, that is plenty of money to retire on!"

George pulled another immense stack journals out, "Don't be silly, Mary, that's just the savings for my accounting services, these are the savings for all the foreseeable expenses of retirement." He showed Mary the totals in each already balanced.

"Why, George, would those make us rich?"

George raised his brow to his lovely wide-eyed wife. "No, Mary we are not rich..." He stood up and reaffixed the correct spectacles to his face and grabbed his wife by the shoulders, "WE ARE FILTHY STINKING RICH!"

"Really?" Mary asked utterly amazed.

George laughed, "Yes!" and, still holding his wife, began jumping up and down and then danced her around the living room. "And Mary," George stopped and held her shoulders pulling her in eye to eye, "I am to receive a pension from the bank as well." They hugged the other and continued dancing about. Seeing Grandpa Joe watching their exchange, they both hoisted him up and dragged him willingly into their celebration.

They all fell to the floor laughing and carrying on when Grandpa Joe gave his own toast to the occasion, "Remember that money you gave me for the house, George?" George nodded, remembering, while wrapping his arm around his wife, "It's yours, all of it! It's still in the account you opened for me at the bank, and it's been there for at least twenty years, collecting interest. I never touched a cent of it. Mary, go upstairs in my bedside table, the book is there."

Overcome with the excitement of the afternoon, Mary ran up the stairs and returned only seconds later, handing the little blue book to her husband. George examined the amount balanced and began flipping through page after page after of deposits made, "Your savings in here, too, I'll sort it out for you, Sir." Grandpa Joe grabbed his son-in-law by the hand with a stern face, "Oh no, George, that is all for you. I never gave you both a wedding present." Mary kissed her father on the cheek, and when they stood up and dusted themselves off, George kissed Grandpa Joe on the cheek as well.

So it was, that over the next month, George did what he did best and balanced every single one of his meticulously kept books, but not alone, now he had Mary by his side. They sat every evening with his ledgers out and figured the costs of everything. Together they decided that, instead of going on buying sprees with the extra cash, they would invest it for their children and grandchildren and those who were to come after that. "I like the way we live now, I don't want someone else coming in and cleaning up after us," Mary replied to the question whether or not they should hire a maid.

"Not to give you extra work, but I really don't enjoy anyone else's cooking but yours, Mary," George mumbled, concerned that Mary would want to hire a cook.

"No George, I enjoy cooking for my family."

George and Mary liked the comfort and familiarity of their old things, and as they walked around their home, deciding which pieces of furniture should stay and which should go to make room for newer and better sofas, chairs and end tables. They both concurred that their home was fine the way it was. "Well, we should buy something new. We've always lived like we're poor," George said as he sat in his favorite spot, disappointed that even now that they were filthy rich; they were still trapped in the lifestyle of those who worried about their money.

"I never looked at it that way. If we needed something, we bought it. If I wanted a new dress or something nice for the house, you gave me the funds. I don't think we lived like we're poor. Maybe we just not meant to live like the royals. Think of my Aunt Millicent, she needed to brag about how wealthy she was, and had you not paid for her funeral, she would have been buried in Potter's Field. She always used to tell me, 'if you die with money in the bank, then you did not invest well enough'," doing her best Aunt Millicent impression. "What's wrong with having money in the bank for our children and grandchildren to inherit? Is that not what they call 'old money'?" Mary was sitting beside him in her rocker and gave another look around her humble home.

"Then we should just give the money to our children?" he asked. "No, that way they will never appreciate it. They should be made to earn their living, as we did. Oh, course we will help them along their ways, but they will not be spoiled in adulthood by an excess of available cash, after spending so much time in their youth learning money's value." George agreed to that, and then agreed they should purchase an automobile.

George retired, and so did Mary. When all was said and done, they hired a charwoman anyway who took only an hour or so in the morning to straighten and keep Mary's spotless house tidy. The only room Mary insisted on cleaning herself was the bedroom she shared with her husband. Mary still cooked all their meals, and with the extra time, freed from scrubbing floors and dusting, she tried out exotic cuisines from the cookbooks she purchased while shopping for her own fine china. George now developed his own hobbies. Grandpa Joe taught him card games, which they played with his brother Harry on Thursday nights in the tavern. His also took up an interest in gardening, not flower gardening, but vegetable gardening, paying a contractor to turn his shed in the backyard into a greenhouse.

The days past quickly, and the months came and went. Soon it was three years since he'd retired, and John graduated university, and Michael returned from his service, honorably discharged. Both sons moved back in with their parents, but only for a short time. Michael wished to re-enlist under his own name, and John preferred to live in a flat near his new job as a teller at the prestigious Bank of London.

"Well done," George congratulated him, and gave him the funds for his first month's rent and security.

Michael left with a handshake from his father, and kiss from his mother. "Don't be afraid, Mother, if I can survive underage, I can survive as a grown up as well."

The only child still habitually absent was Wendy. She had written weekly in the beginning, and then only monthly. As of late, she only wrote home on holidays and birthdays. The letters were clearly addressed to her parents, with no return address, and a little stranger, no postmark stamping the starting point in the mail. They started out being written on her lovely stationary, but now where written on an odd parchment Wendy explained away with "_Research for my novel..."_ The correspondence was always delivered late in the night, and never mixed in with usual bills and notes handed to them by the postman himself. In the morning, Mary would find her letter sitting alone on the floor by the front door. "Postman must have found it after his regular route was done," Grandpa Joe explained for the hundredth time, while Mary peeked out the front window to the street outside.

George and Mary took many day trips away from London in their automobile to no place special; just to get out and away from home on their own adventures. One Saturday evening in particular, after a leisurely morning and afternoon of running errands and shopping, they returned home to a house that was supposed to be empty. They unloaded the car of parcels and carried them inside, setting them down at the front door. They were too busy chatting with each other to notice John and Grandpa Joe sitting in the parlor waiting for them. It was the last week in August, and very late in the day, and all Mr. and Mrs. Darling wanted to do was sink into the sofa and relax, as was their normal habit. John stood and welcomed his mother home with a peck on the cheek, and a hug. For his father, he offered their traditional handshake. Grandpa Joe said nothing and proceeded to continue his rocking in Mary's chair reading the paper.

"Mother and Father, I have news. Please sit down." Mary and George didn't even have a moment to remove their traveling coats, for John was smiling broadly, very pleased with whatever news he was to deliver, but before he did he called into the kitchen, "Margaret, my parents are home."

An equally happy Margaret scurried and in and stood next to John and pushed out her left hand. "Look!" she exclaimed, and George and Mary bent over her hand and did just that. Being a man, George was oblivious to such things and he whispered to his wife, "What are we looking at?" Mary had an odd expression, and rose to her feet without George who was still staring at Margaret's hand.

"Oh my God!" Mary exclaimed, her jaw dropping. "George! Get up and shake your son's hand."

George got up on command and shook his eldest son's hand while Mary hugged Margaret and danced about. Grandpa Joe smirked as John joined his soon-to-be wife and his mother in their celebration. "Why are we happy?" George asked watching the merriment before him.

"George, John and Margaret are to be married." She held her husband hands in hers and saw his unhappy face. He let go of Mary's hands and stepped back. Looking puzzled, he moved further away out of the room to the stairs. He took each step slowly and without another word went to his bedroom.

John and Margaret both ceased their celebration, and stood behind Mary, watching George as he ascended the stairs. "He's not happy for us mother? Why?" John queried. "I can't get married without my father's blessing!" he pleaded to Mary, who embraced her son to comfort him.

"I'll go talk to him."

As Mary followed George, Margaret turned to John, "I told you he'll never approve of me."

Mary knocked before entering her own room, and found her husband sitting on the bed staring out the window. "Before you say anything Mary, please remember that you and I were a completely different match." He held his head as if it ached. "She's been with so many different men, her own father had at her before he whored her out on the streets. I can't allow my son to lie down with a woman like that, and take her as his wife. She is not good enough for him, and frankly, Mary, I don't trust her. Martine is my brother's daughter, how do we know that she still does not keep in contact with him? This could be another scheme of Peter's. Had I known that they were courting, I would have never allowed it. John ought to have better than that. He should marry a proper young lady. Am I wrong to feel that way?"

Mary stood in the doorway; the speech she had prepared to make George accept his son's choice was erased with Peter's name. She had forgotten her victorious checkmate and the vicious revenge Satan's twin was surely plotting when he fled the country. If Peter wanted a rematch, he would not get it through her favorite son. "You are right, George, but for our son's sake, we need to talk to him about how this engagement came to be. I'll agree ours was a different match, but if the feeling of love between them is the same, then we must honor their wish to marry. We can't treat them like our parents treated us."

George nodded, "The very second you said they were to be married, I got a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something is looming just outside the door. If that child was anyone else's but Peter's, I think I could give my blessing, if their love was true, and they would be willing to wait a little while. But I'm afraid that for his paternity of the child alone, it can never be."

George and Mary sat down with their older son and his fiancée, and said the same exact thing. John was furious and informed his father, "With or without your blessing, we will be married!"

Margaret was apologetic, and left with John, who stormed out after telling his father, "I don't want anything from you, not a home, not your money, not your love." He further shouted that he had already been given two promotions for his wise investing and record of service, and, just for spite, declared, "By the time I'm twenty-five, I will have accomplished more than you did in your entire career as a banker!"

George sat there and took it, but Mary would not. Feeling her eldest son was a man, who could make his own decisions, right or wrong, she got up from the table and slammed her hands down to quiet the room. This is the exact moment parents disown their children and throw them out into the street with the same nasty words they have just received from the children spent the greater part of their lives raising. But not Mary, "John, it's very wicked of you to speak to your father like that in his own house, so I ask you politely now to leave. Our door is always open to you, and the only thing we ask is that when you want to return, you request forgiveness from your father for your harsh words and hostile tone."

John left and so did Margaret. Grandpa Joe watched them go as they took to the streets. Margaret pulled on John, trying to drag him back, "Please say you're sorry, you are only making it worse. Your father has every right to think ill of me, John! Please understand." But he was obstinate as of late, and would not listen.

A week later, he returned with Margaret and apologized to his father -- under duress. Margaret had returned John's ring and refused to see him again for disrespecting his parents. "I'm sorry, John," she told him quite sensibly, "but if you are that awful with your own parents who raised you with undying love and devotion, how can I assume you will treat me any better when we are married?"

Instead of a handshake, John got a hug from his father. Margaret had an idea to bring about a resolution. "I know you don't like me, Mr. Darling, and I understand your reasons and accept them. But I love John and he loves me. We both are asking you for your blessing, and that is the only thing we will ever ask from you. Neither one of us will ever ask you to love me, or respect me, or even like me, for that matter. We want to get married very much, but we want your blessing more." With Mary's nudge to her husband, the blessing was given and the wedding was planned.

"I want you to know, I am sitting in silent rebellion to this union," George informed his wife as he rose from the head of the table after John and Margaret left. "If it fails, I will first one to say I told you so."

After George went out for a gentleman's night out to Harry's pub, Mary told her father, "You felt the same way about George and me, and that fact alone troubles my heart."

"No, you and George were different," Grandpa Joe, replied.

Mary was washing up, and turned her attention to her father, "Oh really, how so?"

"It was about money. I was afraid George would never be good enough or wealthy enough. It's a real fear, but far different from what George feels. He is afraid of Peter."

Mary didn't agree and she said so. "This has nothing to do with Peter, Father, it has to do with Margaret. He has to forgive her and let go of the evil feelings he holds within his heart because of her, or they will consume him."

The engagement was not a long one -- only weeks. The night before the blessed event, as George sat in the parlor figuring out a budget for the marriage as well as the expense of being a newlywed, Margaret crept up behind him. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and her touch made him glare at her, giving silent warning that he would have no problem dashing the cost of a wedding that never was.

"Mr. Darling, may I ask you something?" She removed her hand and knelt down before him. He nodded, still watching her with raised brow, unnerved that she had now placed her hands on his knees. She bit her lip and leaned into him, which made him pull back further away. "Can I whisper in your ear?"

First he shook his head, and then he spoke clearly so there was no confusion that her forwardness was unwelcome, "No." He stood and began to back up from her, for she too was now standing.

"Please," she pleaded, and quickly approached him, holding him by the arms. She moved her mouth to his ear and whispered with a voice as troubled as his emotion at the moment, "Would you ... would you honor me and walk down the aisle with me tomorrow and give me away?" She left his ear and stepped back, waiting for his answer. He watched her rocking back and forth, afraid to have asked. "I would be embarrassed to walk alone and when the priest asks 'who gives this woman?' I wouldn't know what to say."

"I would be honored, Margaret," George replied, releasing his breath, finally seeing in Penny's daughter what his wife had told him was there all along, "George, no one ever loved Penny for anything more than what they needed of her, not her parents or her husband. No one loved Margaret in any other way but that either, not her father not your brother, not even Aunt Millicent."

Margaret now stole a kiss, pecking him on the cheek, before running up the stairs to Wendy who was waiting. "He said he would be honored!" She smiled and both young ladies raced into the nursery to get their beauty rest.

George waited until his future daughter-in-law was out of sight before wiping his cheek of her kiss. "You still don't approve, do you, George?" Grandpa Joe asked, for he had watched the whole episode.

"I do approve, but that doesn't ever mean I have to like her, or forgive her." He went back to his desk and resumed his bookwork.

Mary had sent her daughter, Wendy, a letter, letting her know of John's intended marriage and the date. "_Please come," _Mary added before signing it and addressed it only with Wendy's name. Mary left it by the attic window right before she went to bed, and in the morning, she found the window open and the note addressed to Wendy gone. Two days later, before the wedding of John and Margaret, unannounced and unexpected Wendy returned. "I can only stay for seven days and then I have to leave." Mary asked her daughter why she had to leave so soon, and the only one she reason she gave was, "I'm afraid I'll forget and get lost finding my way back."

The morning of the wedding was upon them, and John dressed with his father, grandfather, uncle and younger brother at Uncle Harry's. Michael had been released from the army for the special occasion, but was to return immediately following the service. John was a very nervous groom, and pulled his father aside right when they were ready to leave for the church. "Father, what will be expected of me on my wedding night?"

George never discussed those intimate matters with John, assuming that, with Margaret as his fiancée, he had probably already taken her to bed, and she was surely teacher enough. "You haven't been with Margaret in that way?"

John shook his head, "No father, she's a proper lady."

"Have you been with any woman in that way?" George asked further, fixing his own bowtie.

"No father, never."

George had mistakenly thought he was to get off easy with his sons. Michael had more experience than George did with sex, being away overseas, an enlisted man. He now moaned in dismay, and wished he had prepared a speech. With his old feelings towards the future Mrs. John Darling, he cynically wanted to tell his son not to worry, that girl would know enough for the both of them. But, wanting to give Margaret a real second chance, the best start for the new couple, and -- more so -- a better father than his own, he suggested they walk to the church instead of driving in the family automobile. "On your wedding night--" he began, unsure of what to say, and stopped to think about it. "Has Margaret ever told you anything of it?"

John looked baffled and replied; "She has told me that I can do whatever I want to her, whenever I want, and she just has to take it."

For George, nothing could be further from the truth, so he corrected her error. "Oh no, John, that might be what she was taught, but it is absolutely wrong. You see son, your wife is your partner. She's another part of you, and it's not fair if you only receive the enjoyment, and she does all the work. Take your mother, for example, I worked a full time job and made all the money. Your mother worked a full time job and did all the cooking a cleaning. It's all give and take. Now, I'm sure you understand the basics of making love, where to put it and all." He watched his son who nodded, eager for his father to continue. "Always remember there are so many things in a woman's life that are duties she is born with. She will have her monthlies and she will be the one to carry your children and bear them. Keeping that in mind, you as a man should also try to make the simple pleasures and comforts you share together aside from work, pleasures for her, too, not another duty she must perform. Love making for your wife should never be a duty, she should want to, and the only 'duty' involved is for you, John, to make that her pleasure. What you do in the privacy of your bedchamber is your business and no one else's."

John stopped his father, and asked him flat out, "Does mother enjoy your love making?"

There were certain thing in his life that made George proud, and he was not ashamed to admit this was one of them. "Oh yes, John, very much so. Now mind you, not the first time, it was unpleasant for her, because we had both never been with another, but after that, once we were comfortable with each other and got used to being together in that way, it was and still is amazing. Well, son, there are no words..."

Wendy had been the first of the Darling children and Michael the second to discover why their parents always made them knock before entering their bedchamber and why that was the only room in the house that they were absolutely forbidden to enter by themselves. John was the third and had to be told, "Because that is the part of our marriage we keep sacred between us, just like you and Margaret should. When you are in your bedroom together and you close that door, you are telling the world, including your children, this the private time that you both will not share with any other."

If John was nervous, Margaret was terrified. Mary had helped her pick a dress from a catalog and sewed it herself, complete with simple train and pretty beadwork that adorned the sleeves and bodice of the gown. It wasn't white, rather a creamy antique color, and Wendy, looking at Margaret with shining eyes, asked if she could be married in it also. "You can't get married in this dress, Wendy, it's one for a woman that most consider stained," Margaret answered, as Wendy went about fixing the hem and straightening out the veil.

Mary took Margaret's hand, "This is your wedding day Margaret Penolope, and I will not have anyone say a foul word against the bride, including herself."

As Mary turned her back and walked away Wendy whispered, "Don't worry, Margaret, I can't wear white on my wedding day either."

They took a horse drawn carriage to the church and gathered in the narthex, waiting for the mass to begin. Michael escorted his mother to her seat, while George remained with his daughter and future daughter-in-law standing behind the doors that opened into the vestibule. Michael was best man and the only groomsman; Wendy was maid of honor and the only bridesmaid. She kissed her father on the cheek and walked up the aisle, all smiles in the prettiest pale blue dress with pink sash chosen special for the occasion. As she made her way down, she glanced about oddly, looking for someone who was not there by the expression on her face once she stood in the front; her happy smile now a disappointed grin. Or maybe they were, for once the wedding march began, her eyes looked upwards to the organist in the high balcony, and her delight then returned.

John's face shone, catching sight of his lovely bride as the wedding march began, while George offered his arm to Margaret, who uneasily accepted it. Mary instructed him to compliment her, as she was the bride, so he did as he was told, "Your dress is very pretty." She smiled at his straight face, not expecting any compliments from him, and as plainly stated as it was, she still appreciated his words.

At the front altar, the priest asked who was giving Margaret to John and George replied, "Mrs. Darling and myself." He lifted her veil and tried his best to smile, and awkwardly succeeded, patting her on the shoulder instead of kissing her face, then quickly walked back to his seat next to Mary. The service was perfect, and the guests gathered and threw rice when the groom carried the bride down the front steps out into the church courtyard and then off into a waiting car taking them on their honeymoon. George didn't leave his seat once he took it, he did not thank friends for coming, nor stand by the door and see his eldest son, his mirror image, ride off with his new bride. Instead he knelt and said a few prayers of his own.

Mary came back into the church holding Margaret's bouquet, and took her place next to her husband. He looked curiously at the flowers, "She forgot to throw them," Mary offered in response to his raised eyebrow, and placed them down between them.

"Roses, how nice," George offered as he sat back in the pew.

"She's family now, George, you have to make peace with your feelings about her."

George turned his head to Mary and questioned his son's fate, "What will happen if this is exactly what I fear it is, a part of plot thought up by my older brother?"

Mary did not hesitate with her answer, "I'll tell you the same thing I told Margaret last night before she retired to bed. If she is untrustworthy of our faith in her and betrays our son, I'll kill her. And I mean it George, I will kill her."

Mary pulled her husband up by his arm and insisted, "There are many guests waiting for us." They'd invited everyone who came to an elegant restaurant to celebrate their son's marriage.

As they made there way out of the church, they met Wendy descending the stairs from the organist's booth. There were two voices, their daughter's and an unidentified male's chatting back and forth quickly as Wendy peeked out and saw her parents watching for her. "Whom are you talking to?" Mary asked as she leaned her head around into the shadowed staircase leading up to the balcony. Wendy moved casually to block her mother's view and responded in an obvious lie, "Myself."

George pushed past both Wendy and Mary to meet the gentleman who had spoken only a moment before, "I can't stay another moment, Gwendolyn, and I must go back, although you are splendid in pale blue with a pretty pink sash," but found not a soul lingering in the darkness.

"What is that, Wendy?" Mary queried about the old-fashioned cameo pin she carried with her.

"Oh, it belongs to a friend of mine. I let Margaret borrow it for the wedding. You know the saying mother, something old, something new..."


	41. Chapter 41 Unseen Suitors

Rated R: Sexual Content (some may find offensive; implied incest)

My Darling Love

Chapter 41 – Unseen Suitors

"_People only see what they are prepared to see."_

_-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

"Yes Wendy, I know the saying," Mary replied. "If my mother's earrings were the old, and Margaret's dress was the new, that cameo was the borrowed, then what I wonder was the blue?" Mary stood back still holding her questioning expression.

"Actually your mother's earrings were the blue, they are sapphires. The dress you crafted for her was the new and the headpiece she wore that was Aunt Millicent's is the borrowed. This is the old." Mary nodded to Wendy who was still standing half way in and out of the doorway with her right hand peculiarly placed behind her back. "I'll see you at the restaurant," Wendy added with a happy smile in an attempt to hide whatever it was she was keeping secret.

George peeked back into the dark staircase and looked about, still empty of the owner of the voice.

Wendy watched after her parents and waited an entire minute to make sure they had in fact left the church and it was empty before turning around and pulling her friend forward with her right hand into reality. He looked towards the doorway Mary had just left from and back to Wendy and said, "Your mother is just as beautiful as I remember." Wendy released his hand only to have him clutch it again tightly and raise it to his heart. "I have already told you many times, you are by far lovelier than she."

Wendy arrived very late to the reception unescorted. Mary made it her point to address the issue of the absentee suitor personally, "Wendy, dearest, you know if you wanted to bring along your gentleman friend, you could have. Your father and I would not have minded, and we would like to meet him." Wendy blushed but said nothing for she didn't know what to say. "You are getting to that age, Wendy, where we would not mind if he was a widower or maybe a little older than you. You should not think ill of us, we are very curious about the people you spend time with abroad." Mary could see the desire in her daughter to explain everything, but missing the words to do it. Mary relieved the tension by hugging her daughter. "When you are ready, Wendy. Just please tell me he his not already married."

Her daughter could answer that question at the very least, so she did, "No mother, he has never been married."

After the party, the Darling family returned to their home and went straight to bed. Mary and George offered to watch Martine while John and Margaret honeymooned and she was put to bed in the nursery. Michael slept on the floor in the parlor, and Wendy in the attic without the need to convince her brother to relinquish her old room as he had been staying there since he returned, "I was only staying in the attic because you, Margaret and Martine were in the nursery until the wedding, it was not my idea but mother's. I was going to sleep on the floor in the parlor tonight anyway, I don't want to sleep in your room Wendy, ever again."

As the bedtime fairy went about the house straightening up discarded clothes and fixing blankets she found the door to where Wendy stayed locked from the inside. Being the magical creature that she was, she had a key and unfastened the door, only to find Wendy fast asleep in bed with the window wide open. It was an early autumn evening, but the breeze outside was cool, so Mary closed the window softly. Wendy lay in bed in a curious position -- as if she was being held in the arms of someone that was not there. So convincing to her mother it was, that Mary touched the pillow resting next to her daughter's head to make sure there was not some invisible being laying beside her. The pillow was warm, her daughter's absentee suitor gone in the night, but Mary knew for herself no one had come in or out of the house since they arrived home. She moved quickly to the window and locked it. She slowly crept to the wardrobe and knocked. No one answered and she put her hand to the knob, but did not turn it. Instead, she strolled from the room, glancing back to the wardrobe door before leaving.

The bedtime fairy continued to make her rounds throughout the house, returning to the second floor a short time later. Sounds of two people speaking quietly could be heard from the attic. Mary wasted no time and put her hand on the doorknob to enter. Once again, the door was locked and the second the knob began to turn the room above fell silent. Mary knocked and no one answered, not even Wendy.

Mary used her key, and looked in to find her daughter fast asleep in bed with the window to the room wide open once again. This time when Mary went to close it, she found the bolt broken off and springs that kept the window sealed shut removed, forcing the window to remain open. The defeated fairy slowly moved around the room. She inadvertently backed herself into a shadowed corner, where Wendy's lover hid. She stood there long enough to peek around waiting for the mystery man to come out and show himself. But to no avail, for he stood behind her, watching her with a raised brow. Mary stepped back further into the darkness right up against him as Wendy rolled over in her bed, peering through her eyelids to see if in fact her mother left. She hadn't, so Wendy pretended to sleep while her unseen suitor leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes as well.

"Good night Wendy..." Mary whispered and left down the stairs.

"Good night mother..." Wendy replied as the door to the attic closed behind her.

With Mary's own bedroom door shut for the night with her inside a voice spoke out from the shadows in the corner. "I told you your mother was in here before, Gwendolyn. She touched my cheek as I slept beside you. She felt my skin. I know she did for I felt her the warmth of her hand as well. It was not safe for me to stay here with you."

Mary disrobed and got into bed, but could not fall asleep. George was also awake. He crawled up behind his wife and whispered, "Did you find him in her room?"

Mary was on her side and whipped around to face her husband who had already reaffixed his spectacles to his face. "Find who, George?"

George looked to the ceiling that was shared with the attic and responded, "Whoever is in there with Wendy?"

Mary sat up in bed and George followed, "Who is in there with Wendy?"

George shrugged his shoulders, "I have no idea, they been chatting all night long. Its definitely a 'he' though." He finished this statement with a raised brow and a simple head bob to show he was very serious.

Mary rested back on her pillow looking straight ahead and whispered. "How did 'he' get in? Michael went to the attic to gather his things up when we got back, if 'he' was there already hiding, Michael would have said something." Again, George shrugged his shoulders. "When did they begin talking?" Mary asked. Their tones were hushed, and they relaxed close together with their heads under their blankets to keep their conversation from bouncing off the ceiling that was shared with the attic.

"When you were downstairs cleaning up, and I came to retire and Wendy was already in bed for the night. As I reached the top of the stairs at the landing I could hear them. I knocked on the door and she welcomed me up, but there was no one there but herself. The window was open though. After I came in here a short time later, they began their conversation again."

Mary had her ear to her husband's lips to hear every word spoken and then would pull back and move her lips to his ear. "What were they saying?" They hurriedly reversed lip to ear and George answered, "I really couldn't tell, but whoever she was speaking to kept calling her Gwendolyn."

Mary's unattended ear perked up and she removed the blankets covering them. With her finger to her mouth to shush George she listened. Muffled voices exchanged in the attic had begun again and both George and Mary rose, slowly creeping from their bed to the hall, to put their ears up to the door leading to the attic, "...you are just lying to them. Tell them," the male voice said, ending as George and Mary leaned to the door.

"I can't, I don't know how to explain about us. Please don't go, at least stay tonight," Wendy responded. Even though they were not in the room, they knew by the distance of her voice she was standing by the window. "You know I can't stay. It's too dangerous anyway. I shouldn't have come to begin with or remained this long. I did not ask permission, Gwendolyn, and I am sure he is already aware of my absence. Promise me you will return to me."

"I'll leave with you right now." Mary was sure she heard tears in Wendy's voice.

"Not tonight, tomorrow. You have four days left here but don't use them all. Leave the window open."

Mary and George turned to face each other, as the attic was now as silent as the grave. They slowly walked back to bed and climbed in. George motioned for Mary to return under the blankets and once she complied he whispered, "Peter?" Mary gave him a quizzical face of confusion of which he clarified with, "Peter Pan..."

Mary took a moment for the name to register in her brain, and when it did she responded, "Peter Pan is a boy who always called her Wendy, a child's nickname for the mature title of Gwendolyn. No, George, the person that calls her Gwendolyn is a grown up. George I was in the room." Before she continued on, she pulled his hands close to her chest, nearest her heart. "There was a man, a grown up adult man...I didn't see him, but I could feel him."

George reared his head back, "Feel him Mary? You touched him? Why did you not call out for me at that very moment?" Mary shook her head and yanked George back to her, not once releasing his hands. "I could not feel him with my hands, George, I felt him...in my heart..."

Wendy was awake before anyone else in the house. The small carpetbag she arrived with was packed and resting by the front door. When she left to travel the world, she took with her multiple trunks and suitcases filled with her personal belongings. When she arrived home all she brought was one simple dress to wear for her entire stay, a lovely silk nightgown, some socks, a pair of shoes and her father's silver gift set from Paris.

"Wendy, where are all of your clothes?" Mary asked, helping her unpack, hoping she would be visiting much longer than her meager luggage implied. Wendy didn't answer and Mary thought her deaf, as she was standing right along side of her. "Wendy," Mary tapped her shoulder, "Did you hear me?"

"Sorry mother, I'm not used to anyone calling me Wendy. Most call me Gwendolyn now that I am grown."

Wendy was packed and ready to leave as Grandpa Joe made his way down the stairs. George and Mary spent almost the entire night silently chatting under their blanket and didn't drift off to slumber until nearly dawn. "Not even going to say good-bye to your parents, you'll break their hearts." Wendy cast her eyes to the clock on the wall, seconds from eight o'clock. "I have to leave by eight, or it counts as another day," she explained with her hand on the doorknob. Grandpa Joe leaned his head back baffled by her explanation. As the clock began to toll the hour, she pecked Grandpa Joe on the cheek and hugged him tightly, "tell mother and father I will write as soon as I am able. Tell them I'm sorry I can't stay longer. Tell them I love them. Tell them not to worry. Tell them I miss them and will see them soon. Tell them..."

When Grandpa Joe awoke the morning after John's wedding, and looked out his bedroom window, it had been a bright and sunny autumn morning, without a cloud in the sky. He had descended the stairs and seen his granddaughter with her eyes glued to the clock. As she began calling out all her "tell them's" the sunlight hazed over with a thick fog that fell and engulfed the street the Darling house sat on. Wendy went out the door still shouting and instantly her voice grew distant, as if she were running faster than humanly possible away. A moment later her voice stopped abruptly, and the fog dissipated, leaving the street sun drenched in the morning light. There was no sign of Wendy, not up the street or away in a car or carriage, as the sound of her voice was the only one heard when the front door opened. The birds chirping in the trees and noises from down the block had ceased with as she exited, and now began once more.

Michael walked up, yawning, behind his grandfather and glanced through the opened front door and inquired after his lost expression. "Your sister just left."

Michael strolled, yawning again and stretching, into the kitchen and offered, "Strange unexplainable fog? Was that her escort outside waiting for her?"

Grandpa Joe also went to the kitchen where Michael was leaning up against the stove; waiting for the teakettle he'd just placed there to boil. "What escort?"

Michael scratched his head and sat down at the table. "I don't know, when she came there was some person with her, well not with her. It was waiting across the street."

"It?" Grandpa Joe sat down next to his grandson, indicating he should go on.

"When she showed up, she rang the bell and I answered. It was a nice day, about eight in the morning and I remember the time because the clock in the hall was tolling eight, and I opened the door and there she was. It was the dandiest thing, because there was this eerie mist outside that you couldn't even see through. She walked into the house, and as I was helping her with her bag, I just happened to glance past her and there was this person leaning against the lamppost watching after her. The moment she hit the front landing and was completely inside, the mist just went away and it was gone too."

Michael got up when the kettle boiled, "Anyway, I asked her who the person was and she said she was alone. I call it 'it' because it wasn't a man with her, it actually looked like a boy maybe wearing a real funny big hat. You know, Grandpa Joe, no older only than twelve and dressed in a costume? Not a proper escort for a lady her age. Then I asked how she got here and she said she walked. She's been acting a little odd ever since she got back, if you ask me, always looking at the clock and talking to someone who isn't there."

Grandpa Joe looked up to Michael, "You heard him too?"

Michael nodded, "Oh yes, but please don't tell father or mother, it sent chills through me, and I've seen war. I was sleeping in the attic, the night before last, the night after Wendy arrived. The window opened by itself. I thought I was dreaming, and I got up and closed it. Now I knew I was dreaming when it flew open again. I felt like I was five and I pulled the covers over my head to protect myself from the boogie monster. There is no way someone could climb up to that room, but I swear I heard footsteps from the window to the bed and as I was about to jump up and tackle the intruder, they stopped. I sat up anyway, and although it was dark with moon clouded over, and not a star in the sky, I'm sure I saw the outline of a man standing by the window staring at the bed. I asked 'who goes there?' and the figure I know I saw, just drifted into the shadows."

"What did he look like? Was it the boy?" Grandpa Joe asked with his hands on the table shocked by the story.

"No, it wasn't the boy that I could tell. But it was dark and he was also wearing a funny hat. But that's not the end of the story." Michael looked to Grandpa Joe who nodded for him to continue, "so the window was open and I closed it again. A few minutes later it creaked back open, by itself. Then the wind started blowing in and I swear to all that is holy on this earth the wind was howling a name."

Grandpa Joe was wide eyed, "What name?"

Michael lifted the teapot and poured both he and his grandfather a cup. "Gwendolyn. I couldn't sleep after that so I went downstairs. Wendy was by the front door looking up. That's when I first heard his voice."

Grandpa Joe dropped a few sugar cubes into his cup with his lower lip out. "What were they saying?"

"Wendy didn't say anything, but whoever she was talking to told her the attic window was barred or so he thought before he arrived." Both men fell silent for a few minutes while drinking their tea.

"What did you hear, Grandpa?" Michael asked Grandpa Joe who sat deep in thought. "Michael, the attic window isn't barred, only Mary Elizabeth's -- your mother's I mean -- were, and those bars came down years ago."

Michael shrugged his shoulders and offered, "Maybe I was dreaming. Was Wendy speaking of barred windows when you heard her talking?"

Grandpa Joe leaned in close to his grandson and whispered, "They weren't speaking when I heard them. They were making love, I think. First I thought it was your parents, but then I remembered your parents would never do that in any other room but there own and especially not with you children home for the wedding. I know it was Wendy and her unseen suitor because after the sounds of their passions ended it was my granddaughter that crept down the attic stairs into the hall to the washroom. And your sister can be rather loud when she having one on, if you know what I mean."

Michael chuckled and punched his grandfather in the arm jokingly. "Well we all know Wendy is far from being fresh as the fallen snow."

Grandpa Joe had been laughing, but that ended abruptly with Michael's comment. "Michael, tell me the rumors about Wendy. I wouldn't dare ask your father, and when I ask your mother, she gives me a detailed explanation of why they are not true, without ever saying exactly what they are."

Michael leaned back in his chair, calling to mind the specifics. "Well, from what I can remember, they started when she was about sixteen?" More of a question than a declaration, but his following statements he spoke as if they were the words of God in truth.

"The story I heard was she was friends with a group of girls who were nothing but trouble. I think the rumor is Wendy didn't want to be a virgin, or some nonsense because she liked a boy and he would have it on with her if she was going to cry about it when he was riding on her. So, one of those girls took her to her home so her brother could have at Wendy. Seems he was a young widower and very lonely with his wife gone. Wendy did the trick, and he took her virtue. Then the boy she liked complained he wanted a girl with loads of experience and having only one man in her wasn't enough. Wendy went back to the widower, but he wasn't much of a lover, you know the type grandpa, just gets on top and bangs away. Wendy wanted a teacher, so he set her up with his younger brother-in-law around Wendy's age who passed her around to all of his friends, and there were plenty wanting and willing to have a go. Please don't tell my mother, but my own friends used to call her 'doorknob', because they said with Wendy, everybody gets a turn."

Grandpa Joe shook his head and cleared his throat, hearing such gossip about his granddaughter was hard on the ears. "If she was raped by these boys..." he started in Wendy's defense, but Michael corrected, "Oh no, she was very eager from what I heard. Apparently she claimed herself so good at servicing men she said you ought to be paid for it. Yep, she was quite proud of herself for a while there. And then, she went way too far..." Michael touched his grandfather's arm to gain his attention, "As long as I have your word you will not tell mother."

Grandpa Joe raised his right hand as if to take an oath, "I swear Michael..."

"No, Grandpa Joe, you have to swear on a stack of Bibles, for what I am about to tell you cannot leave this kitchen." Michael was very serious and it showed in his face.

"I swear, Michael, on my wife Elizabeth in heaven."

"Wendy lay down for Uncle Harry. John told me."

Grandpa Joe had many friends, but he considered Harold Darling his closest. They were business partners and shared their secrets, deep intimate secrets that neither spoke of with any other on earth. They played cards together, puffed on their pipes together and did everything else away from the Darling Home together, strong gentleman friends with same interests and lots in common. To hear that his best friend, a man he spent every night with working with, side by side at the tavern, had defiled his granddaughter -- not to mention Harold's own niece -- was way too much for Grandpa Joe to stomach. He thought of all the conversations they engaged in, and all the help they had both given one another in their most dire times of need. Now displayed in Grandpa Joe's expression were malice, hatred, disgust, and the living scenario of how Harold Darling was going to be murdered by the hand of his most trusted confidante. Michael knew the two men were close, but not that close, so he went on with the story without concern for his uncle or grandfather.

"Mother knew Uncle Harry was a drunk, and she was always asking father why he wouldn't come to dinner. This was around the time mother threw father out, for he was living with Harry when this happened. Mother didn't want father going down the pub to retrieve him, because she was afraid he would get in a brawl of some sort. So she kept him home with her on a Saturday afternoon and sent Wendy with John as escort, to gather him up off the tavern floor and bring him home to his flat. Grandpa, he was so drunk, John said he never saw a man hitting the bottle like that before. They had to literally carry him home. They brought him upstairs to the flat and Wendy took him into his room. John waited for her in the parlor, as she said she would get him out of his clothes and put him to bed so he could sleep off the liquor. John said he waited and waited and waited and she wasn't coming out, so he knocked on the door and she answered, but only peeking through a crack. That crack was enough to see Uncle Harry sprawled out of the bed all but passed out bare as the day he was born with his pecker standing up at attention. Wendy still had her clothes on and John asked what was going on and she said nothing, she'd be done in a minute. Harry was slurring something and John heard him call for mother to come back to bed and finish what she started."

"He called for his mother, Michael?" Grandpa Joe stood so quickly when he rose he blasted his chair back into the kitchen cabinets by where he was sitting.

"No, not _his_ mother, my mother. John said he was carrying on something like, 'Mary, come back to bed please, oh please, and finish, you little cock tease.' John said Wendy just stood there looking at him all innocent saying something like Uncle Harry was dreaming."

"But how do you know she lay down for him, Michael? This is very important to me, you must understand. I feel him a brother to me. Now you tell me!" Grandpa Joe pulled Michael up to his feet and held him on his shoulders looking straight through his eyes to his soul.

"Alright, Grandpa, I guess it would be more correct to say Uncle Harry lay down for Wendy. But you have to promise me you won't tell mother or father." He didn't wait for an oath, for he could see into Grandpa Joe's soul as well. "John told her he was leaving, but only acted as though he did. He waited and then peeked back into the bedroom through the cracked door when he was sure she thought he was gone. Wendy was riding on top of Uncle Harry on his bed with her skirt pulled up to her waist. John said Uncle Harry had his eyes closed and looked like he was dead. He didn't even know she was there. When she got what she wanted, she climbed off of him. She put back on her bloomers covered him with a blanket and then left the flat. John hid in the hall closet until she was gone, and then John went to Uncle Harry and tried to rouse him awake."

"What happened, Michael, did John say?"

"Nothing happened. He was still drunk, and he thought he was still at the pub and asked for another shot. He wanted to buy another round for everyone. John asked him about Wendy and he told him ladies weren't allowed in the pub! John went straight home and told Wendy what he saw and she denied it. But he could see it in her face. He told her she was a rotten scab for doing it. He called her a filthy tramp and then threatened to tell our parents. She told John the truth eventually. From what John told me, he caught Wendy servicing one of his friends from school right before all this happened, and John blasted her bad reputation, telling her to lay down with only one man that's had plenty of women, not the multitude of silly immature boys she was messing with. That way she could have one off and not have to worry about the scandal of her being loose. I guess Wendy wanted to make Uncle Harry that one man, if you know what I mean. When John told me what she had done, I made it my life's work to save our dear sister's reputation. If I heard talk about Wendy, I would correct the person with a punch in the nose! I told Wendy myself she ought to be ashamed for making it with her own uncle. Disgusting to lay with your own flesh and blood in such a way, especially when he was drunk and not in good senses. Maybe that's why she left. Maybe that is why she always seemed to act shy and reserved around mother and father. If they only knew the amount of bone she's had in her..."

"John knows of this as well, then?" Grandpa Joe interrupted, still standing, hands on his hips.

"Obviously he does Grandpa, he was the one who told me! But don't worry, the three us are sworn to secrecy. John, knowing Uncle Peter and how he was, was very leery about Margaret venturing to Paris with Uncle Harry. John already had a crush on her then. Uncle Harry had only just sobered up, and John knew what happened with Wendy. You know that story, about how Harry and Margaret got married and were held over a few days in France after picking up Martine and all."

"Yes, Michael, I remember. Even Millicent expected him to want a go at Margaret, him being her husband and that being his right, and she told Margaret to prepare herself. But he put Millicent and Margaret in one room at the hotel with Martine and slept in another. He didn't even hint to an interest in her that way when I asked him about it as they were leaving. Millicent thought it was because of Peter, and she asked him. He told her no, and if he wanted a woman to lie down for him, with all due respect to the lady she was, he would pay them to. Margaret said Harry was very nice, polite with the kindest heart. He made her laugh at the orphanage because, she said, all the little children went to him when he arrived. He looked in on and cared after the sick infants, helping the nurses with their duties, leaving Millicent and Margaret to their days in and around Paris shopping for Martine."

Michael nodded when he heard that part.

"If he knew what he had done with Wendy, Grandpa Joe, he would kill himself. Grandpa, I truly think Uncle Harry just doesn't even know, he was just too drunk to remember ... and I don't think we should remind him."

Speaking of the devil, at least of sorts, Uncle Harry walked in the back door as Michael was finishing his story. He looked at Michael and Grandpa Joe curiously. "Good morning, gentleman," his voice calm but concerned, "how are you both this morning."

"Harold, a word," Grandpa Joe commanded, leading Harry into the parlor out of earshot from Michael. Wasting no time he interrogated, "Now. I consider you my brother Harry, and I want an honest answer. Have you and my daughter, Mary Elizabeth ever...well?"

Harry was rather puzzled, "I don't know what you are asking Joseph. What about Mary?"

Grandpa Joe knew Harry enough to know him not a liar, and knew he never played dumb; believing to always being blatantly honest was the best policy.

"And what of Wendy then? Hum?" Grandpa Joe raised his brow and titled his head back.

"What about Wendy, Joseph? Are you asking me a question or trying to tell me something?"

"You don't know what I am talking about do you, Sir?" Grandpa Joe slapped Harry in the chest causing his best friend to step back and appraise the situation he found himself in.

"No, Joseph, I have no idea what you are doing. Is Mary all right? And Wendy? George spoke of someone hiding in the church, her beau of sorts. Is there problem, is he married? Do we have to go speak with that man? I will if I have to, she should not be messing with a married man, it's a sin. Is he someone from the tavern? When did you find out? I would have expected you to send for me the moment you became aware of the situation. We should tackle this together, good man. And of course, George and Mary should not know, best to save them the heartache. Unless Mary already knows, does she know?"

"No, Harry, Mary doesn't know." Grandpa Joe stepped up face to face with Harry, "Tell me about you and Wendy, Harold."

"Wendy and I?" Harry stared at Grandpa Joe searching through his mind. When it came to him, he casually patted Joseph Baker's shoulder, "I know what you are talking about."

Harry raised his head and bobbed it up and down, completely oblivious and off the mark of his friend's intended conversation. "Alistair Smith. He is the gentleman who wants to purchase a share of the tobacco shop from me. He was in America on business for some time and now he just magically reappears as Wendy returns. He is old enough to be her father, he's my age you know and when I see him, you best believe I am going to give him a piece of my mind and my fists as well! How dare he! HE KNOWS SHE IS MY NIECE! To think he just walks in as if he owns the place and buys everyone a round a drinks and all the while he is defiling my innocent niece behind my back. Well, Joseph, I have the mind to beat him until he is dead the next time I see him ... always complimenting me on her beauty, asking after her and such, the reprobate!"

Unexpectedly Harry grabbed Grandpa Joe's sleeve, "You didn't think I knew anything about that, did you, Joseph? I would never allow such a thing! You know me better than that, good man. I would never tolerate my brother's daughter to go whoring with a man like Mr. Smith, oh no ... He may not be married, but it is still very wrong of him to even think about Wendy in such a way and make her hide in order to see him! Really, what's the point? If he wants to court her he should come to this house and meet her parents, it's only right! Wait until I see him this afternoon! You know, this won't wait, I am going this very minute to his home..."

Grandpa Joe hushed poor Harry. "Guilty until proven innocent, which you are, good man..." Grandpa Joe said as he hugged his best friend.

Grandpa Joe led an utter perplexed Harry back into the kitchen. Harry was very bewildered, especially by that comment only made worse when Grandpa Joe pulled him out a chair and took the one next to him, winking to Michael, "No Harold, it's not Alistair Smith, he is a fine gentleman and will be an excellent partner if you should chose to sell him a share of the business. It lightens my heart to hear you speak in the defense of Wendy in such a way, as I know now how undeserving of it she is."

Mary came down fully dressed, complete with apron, to make her family breakfast. George followed behind her and went out the front door to collect the morning paper. Grandpa Joe, Uncle Harry and Michael waited for Mary to take a breath in between pulling food from the cupboards and removing frying pans from the shelves to inform her of Wendy's morning departure.

"Where's Wendy?" Mary she finally asked, and Grandpa Joe answered, "She had an early train to catch, she told me to tell you she will write as soon as she's able and she sorry to have left without saying good-bye, and she also extends her love."

Mary shook her head and called to George who was already at the table reading his paper. "I heard, Mary, you said it yourself, when she's ready she will tell us."

Wendy left from the front stoop and descended the stairs to the street. Instead of her feet hitting the paved sidewalk, she touched down on wet sand. The fog that engulfed the street still surrounded her and she walked forward with her eyes closed and her hands stretched out in front of her. She continued at an uneasy pace until she was knee deep in water and her hands came in contact with a solid figure in front of her that seemed to give and she was able to walk through. "Captain Hook?" she asked fearfully, and broke the silence that surrounded her. Just like the noise of the real world began again with her departure from the Darling house, her arrival to wherever it was sparked the sound of exotic birds cooing and the waves crashing onto the shore. A voice answered her with a great deal of concern, for something unexpected in her was altered, "Gwendolyn? Where are you?"


	42. Chapter 42 Baby Jane

_Author's note: Yes, I know the last chapter was hard to stomach, but please do not lose faith in Wendy or any other characters. Remember there is a far bigger picture here, and the story will begin to move along rather quickly now with loads of explainations and yes, resolution. Wendy Darling - what she has truly been doing - being one of them. Again, please understand, there is a method in my madness and in my writing. I would not just throw that in to offend my readers. It will all make sense very soon, I promise._

My Darling Love

Chapter 42 – Baby Jane

"_A star danced, and under that I was born."_

_-William Shakespeare_

The newlywed couple returned from their extravagant honeymoon a month later. John and Margaret lived only a block away, and for a short while they visited the Darling home often. Since she became a married woman, Margaret took on the disposition of her stepmother Millicent. John's expensive taste and love of the best things in life money could buy had spoiled her. Margaret announced immediately from her honeymoon that she was expectant and due in the summer. She wore expensive clothes and boasted about her husband and home. She had the maid to do the housework, a nanny to look after Martine and a chef to cook all her meals. With nothing else to do but sit around and look pretty for her husband, she spent quite a lot of time away from the house attending brunches and garden parties. Never having any luxuries provided without a cost in her life before, Margaret felt it her right to make up for lost time.

Margaret spent John's money as soon as he made it, even though George advised him to cut off her access to the family funds. "John, she'll put you in the poor house. You must train your wife that money is not always meant to be spent."

John claimed he was kept under Margaret's thumb, and could not stop his wife even if he wanted to. "She pouts and stomps her feet when she does not get her way," John told his parents after showing them a luxurious mink stole he had just purchased for Margaret.

Mary really didn't believe that was true, so she attempted to talk to Margaret herself. Unprepared for their confrontation, Mary almost fainted when her daughter-in-law flew off the handle and accused Mary of being jealous. "You are envious that of all the Darling men, I got not one but two of the best and you were stuck with the miser. It's not my fault George doesn't shower you with gifts!"

Mary felt Margaret deserved a good slap for three reasons. One, she cast her insult at George's kitchen table while dining on the food "George" put there. Two, Margaret did not have the permission to address her father-in-law so informally. Three, without mentioning Peter by name, she still mentioned him.

And so, Mary slapped Margaret.

"Margaret was not speaking of Peter, Mother, she was speaking of Uncle Harry who still helps her with Martine. Your assault to her refined cheek is unforgivable!" John shouted to Mary later that same day as he raged from their home.

To punish his mother, John refused to allow his parents any contact with Martine or the son Margaret gave birth to the first week in July. John saw his father heading to work one day and told him, "It's a boy, we named him Joseph for Grandpa Joe."

George shook his hand with a smile that turned to a frown when he questioned how mother and son were faring. "It took Margaret about a month or so to recover, but Joseph does well with the nanny."

The next time Mr. and Mrs. Darling heard anything of the new Mr. and Mrs. John Darling and family was on Christmas Eve, when George was dispatched to John's house to drop off presents for the children and the grandchildren. "They went off on holiday, and Mrs. Darling is expecting again," the butler who received them replied. As George bowed his head, saddened by their snub, he was further informed, "I almost forgot, they are moving to a mansion uptown when they return."

Life went on at the Darling house as it always had. Days turned into weeks, weeks passed into months. With John's estrangement from his parents, Mary waited for a letter from her daughter that never came. In fact, after John's wedding, Wendy seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth. "What happens if your brother Peter gets to her?" Mary asked George almost every night.

He would reply, "I've contacted the police where he was living, and they wrote that he fled the area, and suspect he returned to Europe. We are the ones you should be worrying about."

His reassurances soothed her mildly. "Wendy will write." And Wendy did write, eventually, but only to her grandfather. He read the letter completely several times with George and Mary watching before ripping it into shreds and stuffing it into his mouth. After he swallowed it whole he offered, "Said she was fine, a little homesick, and will try to get home in a month or so, a special delivery if you will."

It was a little longer than a month, but they did receive two special deliveries, just not from the postman.

The first came from an officer of his majesty armed forces who arrived on the Darling doorstep late in evening with a letter addressed to Mr. George Darling. The officer took off his hat when he entered their home and lowered his head as George read the official document signed in black ink from King of England's chief aid.

_Dear Mr. George Darling,_

_I regret to inform you that your son Michael Frederick Darling died in combat maneuvers on the 7th day of October. His body has been recovered and is being shipped home to you. At this time, His Royal Highness, the King of England would like to express his sincerest condolences for your loss..._

"Now we only have two children," the father who had just lost his first child to the clutches of death said softly.

"No, George, one. We've already lost John." Mary held his shoulders from behind as he broke down where he stood and began to weep inconsolably.

"None then, you might as well count Wendy as well. She is never coming back," George said heavily, as he turned to his desk to look over his own accounts for Michael's savings.

Mr. and Mrs. George Darling wrote to their two children who were alive somewhere in the world and informed them of Michael's casualty. John's letter was returned unopened, marked "RETURN TO SENDER" in John's hand. Wendy's letter was removed from the windowsill in the attic where Mary placed it, but no response came. George made the funeral arrangements while Mary picked a uniform for her youngest child to be buried in. He hadn't died in combat, for there was no war raging in world at the time. He died in a bar fight in on a military base somewhere overseas, arguing over a whore who preferred the company of one man to another. Just like Grandpa Joe kept the secret of what was written in Wendy's only letter since she left, George kept the secret of fatal wound Michael received when his back was turned.

On the morning of yet another funeral, "the hardest loss is that of your own child," the neighbor next door informed them, Mary and George dressed together to say their good-byes to their boy. They descended the stairs, softly reminding each other of old memories, of when the house was full of their own infants running about like wild animals, when they saw a pretty pink bassinet placed lovingly by the front door. Inside the bassinet asleep was a little baby wrapped in a pink blanket. "Her name is Jane, please do not change it" was all that was written on the card folded near the infant. Without question of paternity or demand for explanation George raised the infant up into the sunlight that poured in from the open front door and repeated her name, "Baby Jane..."

She was a tiny little thing, not a newborn baby but a baby nonetheless with the bluest eyes and a cute smile that made her face light up when she first cast her sight on her "father."

"Oh, isn't she just precious!" George exclaimed as he showed his dumbfounded wife the delicate creature he held in his arms.

Mary looked at the card lying in the bassinet and read her name, and recognized the pen. "George, this baby belongs to Wendy, she wrote this."

George, still holding Jane, glanced at the card and handed the baby to her "mother." Grandpa Joe was coming down the stairs fixing his black tie for his grandson's funeral and saw two new parents at the front foyer waiting with hopeful eyes.

"I am to tell you without further explanation from the words of your daughter, that she is trusting you both with her baby, for you are the most loving and caring of all parents. Please raise Jane as if she were your own. Wendy doesn't want her or anyone else in the world to know that she is her true mother, and no one is to speak of her father being anyone but George." He now looked at the child. "Ahhh...look George she has your eyes, and Mary Elizabeth's smile. I think you should for good measure leave the nursery window open on the first full moon of every month. I hear angels bestow their blessings on the full moon."

"Wendy will never come home then?" Mary asked, holding tightly to her only daughter's little baby.

Grandpa Joe shook his head. "I wouldn't say never, Mary Elizabeth, it's just right now her adventure in life has led her elsewhere to another world of sorts. She is writing a book though, and as soon as it has an ending she will send it to us."

George and Mary carried their new daughter to church to say good-bye to their youngest son. He was handsome, even in death, and was laid to rest in new row in the graveyard, one purchased just for the Darlings. John came to the funeral alone, "I read his obituary in the paper," he told his father as he offered him a handshake and left without watching the casket lowered into the ground. He said nothing to Mary who held Jane, and would not even give her the courtesy of a peck on the cheek for all her years of service being his mother.

The Darlings returned home and put their daughter to bed after feeding her and giving her a bath together. Since the day their children had first run away to Neverland, George commanded the front door be bolted shut. "All our children are home safely; no need to keep the door open for intruders to come in and steal our family away. From now on the front door will remain locked."

Margaret had another baby, and just as John had read his brother's obituary in the paper, Mary and George learned they were grandparents again, the same way. "Mr. and Mrs. John Darling announced that have welcomed a new son to their home..." George read no further, but Mary read every line.

"They moved into Millicent's old manse," she told her father who nodded his head as she spoke. "Have you seen them?"

Grandpa Joe nodded his head again, "Not Margaret, only John. He comes into Harry's tavern all the time. He has a lady friend there that works as a barmaid, she's a widow."

Mary shook her head as she rose from the table and began clearing it from breakfast. "What's gotten into him?" Mary muttered as she dropped a dish breaking it into the sink.

"You are right on that account, Mary, it is not Margaret. It is John," Grandpa Joe agreed. "He said she's too difficult to deal with at home, doesn't take well to the new babies, only cares after Martine. She won't let him take her to bed for fear she'll find herself with another baby, so he chooses to seek solace elsewhere. Must be something in his bloodline." Grandpa Joe rested his head on her shoulder and she in return kissed his bald spot atop his head. Jane, sleeping in the parlor, awoke and began wailing for attention, "Ahhh, the call of motherhood, Mary Elizabeth, so becoming on you."

Jane was a perfect baby. She giggled easily and ate all her meals without complaint. George finally got to enjoy being a stay-at-home father without any of the concerns regarding money. Finally having the ability to give a child all of his time, or maybe the simple fact that he was older, George felt more comfortable and at ease with Jane. Mary showed him the correct way to change a diaper and feed Jane with a bottle, and soon enough Mary was certain their new baby would be calling him "mommy." If Jane awoke in the night, George went to her, allowing Mary to rest and, unlike the times when his own children cried out without relief, Jane nestled into his arms and returned to her peaceful slumber.

As she grew into a toddler, George took her into his garden, and she helped him pick flowers and harvest the vegetables he grew in his greenhouse. Mary would watch from the kitchen window as George sat on a stool and pulled weeds, and Jane squatted next to him, and asked the endless questions infants her age normally do. "Why is the sky blue, Daddy? Why is grass green? Do you see the same colors I do or are they different? Is your red my blue and my yellow your green? How do you know?"

George kept working and answered each question as best he could, always ending them with, "What would you like to know next?" He never lost his patience or gave the simple response of "because I said so," as other busier parents seemed to. When his work in the garden was done, he would carry Jane inside sitting her at the table to color. She kept him company outside, and he returned the favor inside, taking the chair right next to her with crayon in hand putting out pieces of artwork with his daughter to be plastered about the house.

Jane spent much time with Mary as well, around the home and at the park. They would go for a walk after lunch, and Mary would push her daughter on the swing and swing along with her. Just like Wendy, she had a knack at the piano, and even at an early age she would sit on a pile of books and tap away at the keys in attempt to make music. As she grew older into childhood, Mary gave her lessons, and soon she was a regular Mozart. Jane also loved to dance and pretend. Mary would take to the keys and Jane would dip about and twirl on her toes, "Watch this, Daddy." Jane would hop on one leg and kick with the other. George would smile proudly and clap for her display. With the performance over, Jane would insist they all do something else together, as a family.

Thus, being together as a family, and loving each other endlessly became the new comfort in this home. Jane helped her mother make all the meals and set the table all by herself. As her parents sat down, Jane would interrupt her mother as she served George first, "Before we eat we must thank God." George and Mary were impressed and they held hands and said the prayer before eating. The table was alive with chatter, often leaving George laughing with his mouth full, Jane rolling off her chair, Grandpa Joe and Uncle Harry using the tablecloth instead of a napkin to wipe their heads in their fits of laughter, and Mary nearly choking on her potatoes because of the humorous conversations they delighted in.

And after every meal, mother, father and daughter did the washing up. Mary would stand at the sink and wash the dishes; each plate, cup, fork, spoon, and knife cleaned would be handed to Jane standing up on a stool who would dry them. With the plates and such washed and dried, Jane would hand each off to her father George who would put them away.

"Thank you for all your help, Jane." Mary would peck her little girl on the cheek, "Thank you for your help, Daddy," Jane would pass the kiss on to her father with a whisper, "Now you kiss mommy and thank her too." George would lift Jane off the chair and step around to Mary and place the kiss on its final destination, his wife's lips, "Thank you, Mary."

Going to mass on Sundays was an adventure all of its own for the new Darlings. Jane would race ahead of her parents, wanting the seat nearest to the front as she could get. She knelt down as soon as her parents arrived next to her and said her own prayers. "Now, Jane, we are going to learn prayers, it will take you some time to memorize them, so for now we will do it together and I will help you along." Mary only had to repeat the "Our Father" and the "Hail Mary" once and Jane remembered and she still insisted her parents pray with her. After Jane said her good morning to God, she would silently gaze in awe up to the altars, as if waiting for the Lord Himself to appear.

Mary and George never had to drag her to church, like their other children, nor tell her to behave. In God's house, she was always on her best conduct, and every Sunday she was dressed and ready to go waiting by the front door. "If we don't leave right now, I will not be able to sit in the front row." Jane was now doing the dragging of George and Mary. As the service began, Jane would make George pick her up when he stood. She sang along word for word with all the hymns, and in tune with the organ. The priest gave his sermon, and if one of her parents happened to make a comment or begin whispering back and forth, Jane would shush them with her finger, "Listen to the priest Mommy and Daddy, God speaks through him."

Jane was no trouble at all, and she was now only a small child of no more than four; she always kept her room tidy and neat. Mary purchased a special toy box with her name carved in the wood, and every night before she went to bed, she would scurry around her room and replace all her toys and things inside it. She threw tea parties for her parents and cuddled up next to them at night, and listened quietly as they told her stories of a blissful kingdom with a King called Michael and his sister the Princess Gwendolyn and how together they defeated dragons, lions and crocodiles. They said the bedtime prayer together and without having to be told, she would jump down from their bed and head to her own with George and Mary giving chase. "Sweet dreams, dearest Jane," Mary wished from the doorway, as George tucked her in with a kiss on the forehead. Instead of one bedtime fairy, the house now had two who took turns standing guard over the beautiful little girl with curly dark locks and eyes as blue as forget-me-nots.

And as Grandpa Joe had asked, Mary always kept the nursery window open on the first full moon of the month. Those mornings after the full moon, Jane awoke overjoyed and full of her own stories about her happy dreams that flooded her mind in the night. "Well, Mother, I was on a pirate ship and the Captain let me steer this big wheel. I told the pirates your story about the dragon that breathed fire and how King Michael defeated him with his sword and they all cheered, even the captain. Then the captain took me down to the galley and let me feast on ice cream! He told me not to eat sweets because it will spoil my supper when I'm home, but on his ship I could have all the sweets I want. Then he let me dance in his cabin like I do for you while he played his fancy piano. It was a jolly time!"

The part Mary and George always waited for, word of Wendy, never came. At the end, all Jane would tell them, "I wanted to stay there forever but the captain told me he knew I missed you both already and I should keep growing up and make you proud. So that's what I gonna do."

Mary and George loved Jane, and loving her kept them young at heart, and maybe a little younger in body too, but not much. Mary began to show the first signs of her maturity with a few strands of gray hair neatly mixed into the brown on sides of her head. George had not one gray hair at all, but his hairline was receding a bit and his widow's peak grew more prominent as the years went on.

In contrast, Grandpa Joe did nothing but grow older an older, and soon he became absent-minded which led to him being unfamiliar with everything and everyone except George. He continually called Mary by her mother's name, and Jane he addressed as Mary and got into the habit of getting lost on his daily walks. "You need to keep your father at home, Mrs. Darling, we found him eating out of a trashcan," the constable told her as he dropped Grandpa Joe off yet again.

Grandpa Joe was mischievous with Jane, and acted childlike with her, rolling around on the floor and playing games. On Christmas morning, he seemed as much a youngster as Jane herself. He flew down the stairs and waited expectantly for mother and father to come down so the gifts could be unwrapped. He asked for extra dessert at dinner every night. The money George gave him for his tobacco pipe he spent on candy at the corner store and would hide the empty wrappers in odd places throughout the house for no reason, only, "he told me to." Who 'he' was, was as great as a mystery as why, when he was caught, he would blame his innocent sibling, Jane. His misdeeds got him in more trouble than Wendy, John and Michael had ever found, and he became so troublesome that Mary had forbid from taking Jane from the house on his adventures.

"Father, where's Jane?"

Grandpa Joe scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Who's Jane? I took Mary Elizabeth to the park early this morning. But she was having so much fun I didn't want her to leave, so I came home without her, Elizabeth."

Mary and George threw on their coats and were out the door in a heartbeat. They ran all the way to the park to find Jane waiting patiently with a constable. "She told me her name was Jane Darling and her parents would be by to pick her up in a moment. She made me wait here instead of bringing her home, that way we would not miss each other along the way. She's a bright little tyke," the police officer told them as Jane was embraced, looked over and kissed by both her parents. "I would advise you to not let her grandfather take her out anymore alone. She told me he wanted to play hide and seek. He hid and she spent the better part of the morning looking for him."

As time went on, Grandpa Joe grew stubborn and nasty, and continued to reverse in age, acting like a two-year-old who threw temper tantrums when he didn't get his way. He stomped his feet and cried when Mary told him he could not run outside and play in the mud. He accidentally tripped playing blocks with Jane on the floor in the parlor and broke a lamp. Grandpa Joe, a grown up with years of experience and once wise in years, hid in the hall closet and begged George not to spank him. George was flustered and all he could manage was, "Ridiculous, I could never spank a child."

Finally, after months of increasing mindlessness, Grandpa Joe took ill in the autumn and depleted further, becoming bedridden and in need of full time care. Returning the favor, Mary now nurtured him, as he did for her when she was a child. He still called her Elizabeth and referred to Jane as Mary Elizabeth, although most unfortunately, George was now forever lost to him. "Who is that man, Elizabeth, that brought up my supper? I don't want any man in this house at least not until I die, you promised me when we married. Remember you are still my wife."

Mary gathered the dishes and kissed her father on his cheek. He went for her lips, causing poor Mary to pull away so swiftly she fell over. "I'm not Elizabeth, Father! I AM Mary Elizabeth your daughter, please!"

Grandpa Joe was an insulted husband who grabbed his daughter harshly by the wrist when she stood. "Please father..." Mary sobbed, overcome by grief. Grandpa Joe suddenly and rather unexpectedly calmed, only to violently yank his daughter's ear to his mouth, whispering a disturbing sentiment that dropped her to her knees.

"Now get out of my sight, Elizabeth!" he shouted with his words complete and rolled over on the bed away from her.

Jane, curious of her great-grandfather's behavior, asked George, "Why does Grandpa think Mommy is his wife?" George tucked her into bed and brushed the hair from her face and responded, "Sweetheart, Grandpa is senile, and doesn't remember that grandma Baker is heaven with God. He calls you Mary Elizabeth because that's your mother's name, and in the fantasy world his mind took him to, the only two girls alive within it are Grandma Baker and his daughter, your mother."

George asked Mary what her father had told her after Jane was safely tucked away when he found her quite shaken wringing her hands at the kitchen table. Mary looked up to her husband and repeated, "He told me George, 'the devil is going to get you Mary Elizabeth. He is going to use your husband as his executioner.'"

George frowned, and shook his head, "Rubbish, Mary..."

Uncle Harry was Jane's godfather and he visited often. His presence became more constant when Grandpa Joe took his turn for the worst. Being the most qualified doctor of the family, as well as Joseph's best friend, he looked in on him daily, although in Grandpa Joe's state of mind, he didn't appreciate it.

"Now there are two men in my house, Elizabeth. May the devil curse you, you filthy whore. If I had my strength still, I would force you down on this bed and give you a good one to teach you who owns the hole between your legs!" He would yell this and other indecencies as Mary cleaned up his room and readied him for bed. She shut the door behind her and still he ranted on about his wife's offensive behavior.

Jane was allowed to stay up later as she grew. George would sit with her on the sofa and read any book she liked as Mary went upstairs to look after her father. Mary's heart was broken by her father's words, but knowing this was no longer the good friend she had known all her married life, only his evil altered ego back from the past, she put on a strong face and smiled when she re-emerged from the hell on the second floor.

It was a downward spiral that left George and Mary considering committing Grandpa Joe to a mental hospital. He had gotten into the practice of climbing out of bed in the middle of the night and barging into Mary and George's room screaming and hollering at the "wretched adulterer" who had "taken my place in my wife's bed." Grandpa Joe had apparently "always known he'd come back to steal you away, Elizabeth," although Grandpa Joe, "would never let that happen!" Before he slammed the door and left he informed George to get out or face a "fate worse than death."

Mr. Baker seemed to gain enormous strength, and one Sunday morning as George stood at the top of the stairs dressing for church was shoved from behind and fell down the entire flight. "Run, Elizabeth, take Mary and save her! I just killed the devil!" he shouted as George tumbled down. Mary, his wife, ran to his aid, ignoring her father, and Mr. Baker lunged forward and pushed her down the stairs as well. "Go to hell then, Elizabeth, you whore!"

Hers was the lesser injury, for George, seeing her plummet, used whatever strength he had left to rise and catch her right before her head smacked full force into the railing post. "YOU COULD HAVE KILLED YOUR ONLY DAUGHTER!" George cried out as he leaned back and slid down the wall. He had a nasty gash on his face from where his glass in his spectacles broke and tore into this skin, not to mention the internal damage Mary was sure there was when George clutched to her and moaned in agony, "There is something wrong..."

Baby Jane came to the rescue with Uncle Harry at her heels. They waited outside for her parents to leave for church and, hearing the commotion, burst in and saved the day. Mary was shaken up but mostly unharmed. Harry carried his little brother to the parlor and assessed the injury, with Mary watching over them. Jane stood at the bottom of the stairs, a small child of only five. She shook her finger up to Mr. Baker and took to the stairs one by one, stomping up like an angry mommy about to confront a bully. Grandpa Joe stood his ground, but only until Jane took his hand and smacked it as hard as she could manage.

Something hidden in her raged, and the beautiful blue in her eyes fled as the red fire of anger poured out from within. "You are a very bad man, and I don't like you anymore. If you are not nice to the people that love you and are not sorry for being hurtful to them God will punish you for it!" She finished her declaration by sticking out her tongue and shouting, "Now go to your room Pop-pop and think about what you did." He turned slowly giving a backwards glance of remorse to his great granddaughter who stood with her hands on her hips glaring back. "No supper for you until you say you're sorry!"

Mr. Baker went to his room and went to bed. Like the child he had become, he cried himself to sleep. Mary went to check on him after Harry left, taking George to the hospital. She set Jane down for her nap and then took a seat next to her father and crocheted to keep her hands busy. "Do you love him?" Grandpa Joe mumbled hidden under the blankets ashamed of his behavior.

"Yes, with all my heart." Mary replied and Mr. Baker wailed loudly, a noise made by someone who was having their heart ripped from their chest.

"I'm sorry I was always so mean to you, Elizabeth, I don't blame you for taking back your old lover. Just tell me why you punish me and do it in my house with me still alive. I can't bear it. You told me it was finished with him, Elizabeth, before we married, you promised. Why are you breaking your promise now when I need you most..."

Mary had patience for many things, and a strange curiosity with the confused identity of her mother in her father's eyes. "Joseph," Mary purred, as her mother before her would have, "who is my old lover?"

Her question left her father clinging to his blanket and weeping inconsolably. "Tell me, Elizabeth, tell me who he is so I can kill him and give us peace."

Mary was puzzled by his return of her question. "You beat me and raped me our entire marriage for my supposed crimes against you and you don't even know who my lover was Joseph?" Mary sneered, furious at her father, even in his lost state of mind.

That remark enraged Mr. Baker and he snapped back, "You and your secrets, Elizabeth! You filthy bitch! WHORE! I shouldn't have been so surprised when I stuck it in you the first time and found you already busted! I should have known the moment you spread your legs for me. If I was a wiser man I should have just left you there like that when I was finished, I'm sure you were already ready for the next indigent scab!"

Mary rose from her chair. She leaned down to her father and whispered maliciously in his ear, "My mother loved you, Father. She loved you more than she loved me and you did nothing but punish her for it. I never got to call you bastard, because after she died, you and I found peace. But now the good sweet man that has lived in my house since that peace was made has died and gone to heaven... Now, nasty old Mr. Baker is back. I hope this part of your soul rots in hell you bastard." Without another word, Mary left.

Later in the day, Harry returned "George is asking for you, but he doesn't want you to bring Jane with you. The hospital is a scary place for children, he's afraid she'll have nightmares."

Uncle Harry stayed with Jane while Mary went to her husband. With Harry snoring on the sofa, Jane crept into Grandpa Joe's room. He sat up on his favorite chair and was trying to figure out how to light his pipe. "Pop-pop," Jane called him and he smiled at her.

"Mary Elizabeth, come here dearest." Jane shook her head and remained in the doorway. "Please, Mary Elizabeth, come to daddy. We will pack our bags and runaway together! Oh what fun!" He chuckled, offering a happy smile.

"No, Pop-pop, I'm Jane, not Mary."

Grandpa Joe's short-term memory had also faded into nonexistence and he did not remember child ever residing in the house named Jane. "Where is Elizabeth? She is my wife you know. Are you one of Mary Elizabeth's friends?" he asked her, noticeably confused by the little girl.

"James says your Elizabeth in heaven and she knows I'm here."

"Who is James, little girl?"

Jane entered the room and touched the hand she had reprimanded and kissed it. "James is the pirate captain of the Jolly Roger. I told him you were being mean so I was mean back. He told me to apologize for being harsh with you because you lost your marbles. I'm sorry I smacked your hand."

He nodded not knowing what she was talking about and returned her grin. "Is James your father, little girl?" He asked this question as Jane strolled around the room glancing about.

A child's mind is a simple place, not made for complicated questions of paternity, George was her father and she thought that quite obvious. Jane was tad more intelligent that the average five-year-old, and wise in some ways unexplainable, knowing things others older than her did not. She finally answered, "My father is your son, and you were very mean to him today, you pushed him down the stairs. If you want us to leave, I mean my mommy and daddy, we will."

Grandpa Joe shook his head, "No, I don't want my son to leave, or you either, little girl."

Jane approached his a gently kissed his cheek. "Then you should say you're sorry and then you should say a rosary."

Grandpa Joe nodded again in agreement and caught Jane by the hand as she went to turn away. "Is Elizabeth your mother?" he asked rather worried, as if his wife had another child he was not aware of.

Jane shook her head and smiled again. "No, my mother is Mary, father's wife. You were mean to her too. I think you are just confused. Maybe Mother reminds you of your wife, but she's not. Your wife is in heaven waiting for you, James told me." Grandpa Joe now held his head and in his hands and cried. "No, don't cry, Pop-pop, they'll forgive you, I know they will. Come here and we will pray the rosary together and then I will tell you a story."

Grandpa Joe was instantly excited and followed Jane to the bed. She took out a magnificent set of rosary beads from her pocket, rubies strung together with diamonds marking where the sacred prayer was to be said, which made Grandpa Joe ogle. "Where did you get those?" he asked, astonished.

Jane was unimpressed by them, "James gave them to me, and they are his. He said I can borrow them tonight to pray with you, then I have to give them back." Playing mother, she tucked him in and made him watch as she began saying the prayers moving her hands along the beads without stopping to think as most who pray do.

"How did you learn to pray that way?" Grandpa Joe asked.

"Mommy and Daddy taught me."

Grandpa Joe interrupted her further down her rosary, "Who is James?"

Jane only smiled and continued.

Jane finished and rewarded Grandpa Joe for being so attentive with, "I'm going to tell you a story now," having him pull the blankets up to his neck and close his eyes.

"Now, there was once a pretty peasant named Elizabeth, and she was madly in love with the prince named Joseph, they met on the street when she bumped into him. Now, there was a bad Queen named Millicent, who said they should never be together again, because Elizabeth's parents were not wealthy and lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of town. But Prince Joseph saved Elizabeth from a lion, and it was love at first sight the day they met and they just had to be together. So they got engaged and hid it from everybody. But don't worry, Pop-pop, my story has a happy ending. You see there was this brave knight named George... You see pop-pop I named the knight after your son, his name is George..."

Mary arrived home hours later and checked in on her father. Sleeping alongside of him was Jane cuddled up under the blankets. Grandpa Joe would have only two moments of clear mind before he was cast into the oblivion of delusion; this night was one of them.

"Mary Elizabeth," he whispered as his daughter picked Jane up to carry her to the nursery.

"Yes father," she softly replied.

"Tonight is a full moon, don't forget to leave the window open. And please, my dearest daughter, sleep in Jane's room tonight."


	43. Chapter 43 Very Bad Things

My Darling Love

Chapter 43 – Very Bad Things

"_He who does not punish evil commands it to be done."_

_-Leonardo da Vinci _

Captain Hook danced about the deck of the Jolly Roger with an imaginary partner guiding their steps in the light of full moon. He continually spun around, feet moving with the music that only played in his mind. "I thought we were waltzing," he questioned as he dipped his imagination and began ravishing a neck not there. He pulled his playful companion quickly to her feet, and answered himself, "I see, dearest, tonight we tango," and moved on across the deck.

Mr. Smee interrupted from behind, clearing his throat to attract his attention, "Um, Captain, wonderful clear night, not a cloud in the sky, and there's even a full moon." Captain Hook nodded his head, never letting his eyes leave his lovely lady who was not there. He glanced to Mr. Smee and waved his hook, dismissing his weather report.

Mr. Smee stepped forward to remind him as he did on every full moon, when Captain Hook came about pushed past him into the cabin without another word. Mr. Smee walked to the side of the ship, and looked out into the night. In another moment, Captain Hook stood alongside of him and ordered, "Well Smee? Are you going or not?" Captain Hook whipped around and headed back to his cabin, leaving Mr. Smee wondering aloud to a strange fog descending over the ship, "Yes Captain, I'm going."

"George broke a few ribs with his fall. The doctor wrapped him up well; there really is nothing else they can do with injuries like those. They will have to heal themselves, but George should take it easy. Mary, you have to make him take it easy. He needs to avoid movement for a few weeks and do nothing, at least until the pain subsides," Harry informed his sister-in-law after helping his youngest brother into the house. George wouldn't listen to Mary, but he did listen to Jane, who touched his conscience with, "Daddy, please do what Mother asks, it's only a little while, not forever and I'll stay with you and keep you company the entire time!"

Jane kept her promise as George lay in bed for long days. From the moment she woke up she danced herself down the hall into his room and took up residence on her mother's side of the bed. George and his daughter ate all their meals in that bed, they colored in bed, and Jane made George read her story after story from the books in the nursery. "You are a very good reader, Daddy, where did you learn?" That question led to George recounting stories of his childhood and young adulthood, all the way up to when he met Mary. As George reached that part, Jane summoned her mother to the bedroom and made her give an account of her life story as well. There were many times when Mary spoke that George interrupted, "Really, Mary, I never knew that you..." And for that reason alone, Jane made George retell his side of the tale.

Jane was not without the knowledge of other Darling children, she knew Michael died when she was a baby and that he was a brave soldier who gave his life for others. She knew of John, for she had seen him once when she was with her father at the market. He seemed younger than the senior Darling, but he appeared years older. "He doesn't get along with Mommy," George whispered to Jane when she invited him over for supper, and he declined with a huff.

"Why, doesn't mother like him?" Jane asked, devastated to think her mother incapable of loving anyone.

"Oh no, Jane, Mommy loves him very much. They just had an argument a few years ago, and John is still angry about it."

Jane wasted no time marching home with George in tow to demand, "Mommy, you should write John and his family a note this very moment and ask him over for supper." Mary obliged and even reread the invitation to Jane to gain her approval. All for naught, for John again declined.

Jane also knew of Wendy, but not much. "She travels the world in search of adventure," her parents told her as they tucked her into bed.

Mary and George, oddly enough, never had to explain to a soul where Jane came from. No one asked, so they never offered. The bank where George had been employed before retiring sent a fruit basket and congratulations when word reached them that Mrs. Darling delivered a daughter, "That's what you get for retiring so young!" the new president hand wrote on the card that came with the gift. The neighbors made the same comments, "Dearest Mary, you did not even show in the waist as you carried, and this baby is so big. Goodness, I hope you did not have to labor long."

Jane was baptized in the church the day after she arrived on George and Mary's doorstep. Harry was named as her godfather, his own lady friend -- wearing his ring of engagement for years now -- her godmother. Neither he nor she asked any questions, accepting George's explanation of, "Mary wanted to adopt another baby, so we did." Jane's resemblance to the Darling children, and more importantly, Mary and George themselves, with the exception of her unusually dark curled hair kept even the clerk from questioning their names when they registered her birth record in the London registrar's office.

Grandpa Joe reached the last leg of his journey in the early winter months. He was completely immobile and oblivious to the world around him. Most times he could either be found sitting by the window, aimlessly looking out into the yard as if waiting for someone to come running down the block, or on his bed with Jane's crayons which she donated to keep him busy, lining them up and appraising each one for unknown reasons. He would not speak when spoken to, or even at all. Harry suggested they commit him to a mental ward, but the Darlings refused. "No, I would never have him alone without his family when he passes. He should see faces that he once recognized, not strangers."

There were only two times since his mind went that he made conscious statements that made sense. The first was to Mary in the nursery on the night of a full moon. The second was on his deathbed when, after catching a nasty cold when the weather outside showered frigid rains. George sat with him that night while Mary and Jane readied for bed. George and Mary already had their warning that the end neared, for the house felt like death. The heaters ran full blast to keep the cold banished to the outside, but still there was an unshakable chill in the air. Grandpa Joe had his eyes closed and grabbed George's hand, surprising him with a strong grip. When he opened his eyes, he began.

"Son," he said, "always remember that you are a king and this is your castle. Mary Elizabeth is your queen... Don't burden your family with your old age; let them free of you to enjoy their own lives, even if that means they are to go on without you. Be there for them when they need you, and when their needs pass let them go, Mary Elizabeth included. Remember son; you have your father's blood in you, even if you don't feel it in yourself now. One day it will come out, it has to, for you to end it once and for all. Evil always rears its ugly head when you least expect it ... Expect it son, kill it before it kills the ones who love you...And George, always remember, Mary never fed you to the lion, See to it son, that she never faces that fate herself..." Grandpa Joe clutched George's hand and then released it slowly as he closed his eyes.

He passed on in the middle of the night while his only daughter slept. Mary awoke to a house full of old friends who came by to offer support and lots of love. Wendy would not be coming home for her grandfather's funeral and neither would John. Harry sat with George in the parlor making small talk, while Mary and Jane worked in the kitchen doing their best to keep their minds from grief. The funeral was rather large; Grandpa Joe was a well-liked man in the community and people came from all over. Folks he had not seen in many years, but remembered him as the local baker gave hopes of better days and well wishes to his best friend, his bereaved daughter, her husband and their young daughter.

They rested him as per his request far away from his sister and wife. _I do not care where I am buried, I only ask I not be placed near them. I was too close to my sister in life, and not close enough to my wife. My dearest Elizabeth, my one and only love in all of my days, is already resting in peace. She deserves to stay that way undisturbed, _he wrote in his will, so George obliged.

Mr. and Mrs. George Darling had never planned on having to bury one of their own children, so when Michael was entombed he was placed in the plot George had purchased for himself. Grandpa Joe, or Joseph Henry Baker as he was known in life, was laid one tomb away from him leaving Mary's plot open. "Why did you not place him in my tomb?" Mary asked as they walked from the cemetery.

George, holding to his wife and Jane, replied, "Harry wanted to be buried next to him when he passes, I'll put him there in the open plot. We will have to speak to the priest about new graves for you and I."

Jane had been more interested in everyone else's somber disposition, but hearing it in her father's tone made her speak up. She never cried or made a fuss as most children do, but now she wept inconsolably. "Oh no, Father, you and Mother must never die, you must live forever!"

Jane cried all the way home, even though her father carried her, her tears fell in the nursery as she waited that afternoon while the refreshments for guests and mourners went on downstairs. She cried at the supper table and refused her dessert. She cried while Mary bathed her and as George read her countless bedtime stories. They did their best to comfort her, but the one thing she wanted most of all from them they could not give her, "Please tell me you will live forever."

They could not lie to her and offered, "We will still be alive for a long time," but a "long time" was not good enough when eternity was required. And so, Jane Darling cried herself to sleep.

It was not a full moon, but the faithful first mate came to retrieve her and take her to Neverland nonetheless. She cried the whole way there too, and was greeted by the pirate captain onboard his ship with a baffled face.

"What is wrong with this one?" he queried to Smee who shrugged his shoulders.

"You shouldn't be upset that your grandfather died, dearest, for now he is in heaven with Grandma Baker and is watching down on you," Captain Hook told her, kneeling down to the little girl who stood with tears raining down her face glaring up at him. He moved to touch her and then thought better of it, "You want your mommy and daddy, not me." Jane shook her head through her tears and stomped around on deck screaming, "I WANT MY MOMMY!"

A nameless pirate working on the crew feeling sorry for the little girl and attempted to embrace her, getting a slap right across the cheek. "YOU ARE NOT MY MOMMY! I WANT TO GO HOME! I HATE IT HERE!" The pirate returned the favor by slapping Jane back, well attempted to anyway; Captain Hook caught his hand as he raised it. "I'll gut you from neck to navel if you even think about it!"

The pirate fought for release, calling Jane awfully cruel names, and Captain Hook ripped him completely in two, letting his bloody remains fall hard on the wooden planks.

Jane now screamed with all her might at the sudden carnage, with her beautiful blue eyes bulging out of her head in utter terror. The sky above opened with thunderous claps of lightning striking the ocean and rocking the ship. A torrential downpour flooded the sky and the deck, and still Jane stood and shrieked with all her might. She held her mouth wide open with a never ending screech and looked straight up, the only one standing on board the ship not getting soaked. The thunder only increased in volume, as did the bolts of lightning striking the deck, causing all the pirates -- including the Captain's first mate -- to go running for cover. There was nothing more to say, especially since the pirate captain with a hook for a right hand also holding his eyes to the sky had had enough. He turned his attention back to Jane and with a raised brow and a flick of his finger sent the little girl plummeting backwards landing flat on her bum in the nursery.

Stunned awake, still screaming for her life and her mother, George ran up the stairs and found Jane on the floor and the window to the nursery slammed shut as he entered. Hearing her call for Mary, and remembering his own children's shun of him when he came to comfort he rushed, "I'll go get Mommy," only to have Jane call for him instead, "No Daddy I want you too, please don't leave me. I want my Daddy. I WANT MY DADDY!" He didn't leave and held her tightly, easing her back under the blankets, comfy in her bed. "Please stay with me until I fall asleep, and please don't leave me, Daddy. Don't let Captain Hook come and take me again, he's a very mean man and he doesn't like me anymore, he killed one of his men!"

Jane sobbed as George embraced her even tighter now that she trembled with fear. "It was alright my darling, Jane, it was just a nightmare." George stayed and sat alongside of her as she attempted slumber. Every so often, at least for an hour, she would peek through her eyelids and whisper, "Good, I'm glad you are still here, Daddy. Make sure the window is locked before you go to bed, but don't leave yet, I'm not asleep." Not only did George lock the window that night, he barricaded it with a dresser. He didn't leave either; he slept alongside of her in what was once John's bed.

After everyone left, Mary sat at George's desk and read through the condolence cards, letters and telegrams. Grandpa Joe had generous friends who donated money and any assistance they could offer in return for the Darling's service to the old man who had gone senile and lost himself. The last telegram she opened was from London, and was the last to arrive only moments before she sat down.

_Dear Mary and George,_

_Sorry to hear the old bag finally kicked off. You are probably wondering how I was aware of his most unfortunate demise. I'm watching, I'm always watching. _

_Best wishes and many congratulations to your new children._

_Love Always,_

Peter 

As she took in the last of his words, George descended the stairs and headed off into the kitchen to get Jane some warmed milk with her following in tow, carrying Michael's old teddy bear, Taddy. Mary crumpled the letter in her right hand and took aim at the fireplace wanting to watch it burn into ashes. Then she thought better of it. She rose from her place at George's desk and went into the kitchen where her husband and brother-in-law were chatting, Harry over his tea and George holding Jane, now sleeping on his shoulder, heating milk at the stove.

"Harold, when was the last time you had contact with Peter?" Uncle Harry spit his mouth full of tea across the table at George and glared up to Mary. "Years, Mary." He responded in a rather unhappy manner, "Why do you ask?"

"He knew of my father's death, and congratulated us on our new children." She casually handed George the telegram and he read over the contents looking up perplexed.

"New children? We only have one."

Mary glanced back down and then to Harry who shrugged his shoulders. "I swear that the last time I spoke with him was right after George moved ... The time before that was when he sent our mother to live in Chicago or something with one of our distant relations and when she passed on, he wanted me to go and get her."

The Darlings watched him speak and then looked to each other. "Harry, where is mother buried?"

Harry again shrugged his shoulders, "I have no idea, I couldn't go because that was when I was...well you and Mary understand. That was the last of heard of her."

"Potter's field ... in Chicago," Mary said softly holding George from behind and kissing the top of Jane's head.

"Had I known my brother was to dump her off somewhere like that, I would have ... made other arrangements," George managed as he poured the pot of milk into a glass on the table, then headed upstairs, taking Jane back to bed.

"Where did Peter send that from?" Harry asked as Mary took her place at the table and drank from her teacup.

"London." Mary bolted her head back up and stared off into nothingness. "Oh God, John..."

As Mary had predicted to George in bed the night after the telegram came, Peter came to London to retrieve Margaret. He took Margaret and Martine and her sons with John back to wherever it was he was hiding, leaving poor John adrift at home without even his two children for company. "Waiting is all we can do," and luckily for George, who was worried sick and could not sleep one wink that night, the dawn arrived at the Darling house and so did John.

John rang the bell several times and banged the door almost off its hinges yelling for his parents inside to "OPEN UP! I'VE COME HOME!"

"I lost it all, every cent," John began at the breakfast table, "What I didn't lose in the market, Margaret took with her when she left me. I'm flat broke and we have no place to live, as all my debts have been called in and the bank foreclosed on our houses."

George and Mary sat across from their son and repeated, "Houses?"

"Yes, we had several houses, well, mansions rather, but they are all gone." John cried just like Jane did, with one exception -- Jane's tears were real and John's were not. "I brought all the books for you to look over, father." John sobbed through his fake tears.

George spent all afternoon looking over John's messy ledgers, loaded with errors, miscalculations or overdrafts. Every so often he would raise his head and shake it, adjusting his spectacles before heading back to work. As Mary called him to supper, he had only scratched the surface of his eldest son's inaccuracies. "It will take me a week to balance everything out. My God, son, what were you thinking?" George's voice strained as he took a seat at his table.

John didn't answer him, only glanced off across the table to where Jane sat with a bewildered expression. "Who's that?" he asked his mother as she passed him a plate of her finest.

"That is Jane, John. You know, Jane, our daughter."

Suddenly it came to him, "Oh yeah, I've got two boys of my own as well mother. They're named Joe and Freddy. Margaret snatched them as well when she left, thank God! Could you imagine how utterly inconvenient it would be for me if I had to raise them by myself? " He looked about without concern and then began eating his dinner without waiting for a reply.

Mary sat next to her husband without serving herself and held onto George's hand for dear life. John chomping away at his chicken with total disregard for his own children and without the slightest recollection of ever having met Jane made Mary very uncomfortable. She leaned over to George's ear and whispered, "Right now, right here, promise me _on your life_ you will not let him see our account books or savings ledgers and you will not give him one penny."

George was confused at her request, but seeing the part of her eyes that led directly to her soul and heaven, he nodded with his head. "On our daughters, George," she said, and he repeated, "Alright Mary, if you insist, I swear it on our daughters."

John finished eating first, but not before taking seconds and thirds of Mary's cooking. "I miss your homemade meals, Mother. You know, I do employ several cooks at my homes, but nothing they can come up with comes close to your grub," he commented as he rubbed his belly and belched. Mary did not eat a thing, for when John was finished, there was nothing left to be eaten. She just sat and stared back and forth between John and George and made mental comparisons.

John had always held the closest resemblances to George but now a man in his twenties he had matured differently. She more she stared at him; the more he seemed like a monster.

Grossly unattractive and unfit, he had let himself go in more ways than one. George always kept what hair he had left neat and tidy, and wore a formal attire of dress shirt, pants, tie and sweater. John had a stubbly face with a scruffy moustache. He wore trousers with a stained shirt and no tie. John picked his teeth and blew his nose in his dinner napkin, stretching his arms out and releasing a large yawn followed by another burp, none of which he asked to be excused from.

George rose from the table and said, "Jane, bedtime."

She bolted up the stairs with Mary following her. "Will the maid clear the dishes?" John asked, as he leaned back in the chair and gave a relaxed stretch complete with yet another yawn.

"No, John, your mother will."

John scoffed at his father and casually strolled into the parlor. George followed, and soon they were engaged in a very intimate conversation, huddled together near George's desk. Mary returned after Jane was tucked away safe in bed when she came across the both of them, snickering and jeering to one another in the most unbecoming manner.

"What do you think you are doing?" Mary demanded as she stepped into the parlor.

Apparently unconcerned, believing Mary simple minded, John responded with George watching, "I was just curious about how father's finances were. You don't even have a maid, Mother." Two insults cast by the prodigal son. Even a homeless man who resided on the corner knew George Darling kept balanced books. Not to mention he used the tried and true method of pitting one parent against the other, which never worked in their home, at least not where the children were concerned. Or so she thought. Therefore, Mary approached John and pushed him out the way, slamming George's desk top down. On her heel she turned around and glared at her only son with breath still in him and her husband of many years, "What is it that you both really want. You know, I have your God's ear, and if you could convince me of the cause, well I would be the best person to talk him into it."

John smirked, as now did George. John voiced his own desires first, "Money mother, I want money." Now that was obvious to Mary, but she needed to know the real reason. Win back Margaret? Return to the lifestyle he had grown accustomed to? Get rich quick scheme? What? Or was there some other ulterior motive that brought John back home once again. Mary could tell a lie when it looked her in the face and her son's answer sent a red flare up into the sky above where they stood in her parlor.

"For my children, of course, Mother." Oh yes, oh course, for his children, two sons whose whereabouts were unknown to him. "Oh yes, the children. How silly of me."

As Mary completed her sentiment, George stood and handed John book after book of his balanced ledgers, which told of all of George and Mary's assorted wealth. "We can take it with us when we leave," George offered, as John yanked the ledgers from his father's hand and examined the total. "This can't be all of it," he sneered, glancing at George and then to Mary. "We can't take all of it, John, what would your mother live on?"

"To hell with Mother!" John exclaimed patting his father on the back.

"George, what are you doing?" Mary shrieked, stalking up to her husband and holding him about the shoulders.

George shoved Mary down to the floor harshly. "Don't you want to know what I want Mary?" She gave no answer, so he replied for her, "I want you gone, Mary. Dead and buried and soon enough, but not too soon, you will be. Now my brother and my son are my life. You, on the other hand, I'm happy to part with it. You should have fed me to the lion when you had the chance your Highness. But it is just as well, to the lion Mary, to the lion..."

John lowered the ledger and looked up to George, "Oh, Father, how did you know?" George straightened his spectacles and fixed his sweater pushing out his chest proud to have been abreast of something brewing before it blew up in his face.

"Please, do you think I was not keeping in touch with my beloved brother, Peter?" George answered John as he turned to Mary. "Really Mary, how foolish of you."

"Peter is waiting at the front door with Margaret and my children father. Think of all the fun we will have together!"

George returned his glance to his eldest son, "Apparently Peter and John here are willing to share more than just Margaret with me." George paused giving his wife a frightening glare, "With my own children, my own flesh and blood and now my grandsons. How could you not know Mary? Did you not think Peter a good teacher? It's only a shame I will never have the pleasure of Jane. Well, then again, you never know..."

John shrugged his shoulders with the same concern he showed for his children. "Whatever already," he snapped, "I shall consider this my inheritance father, and you can help me spend it!"

George nodded, "And you don't even have to wait until I'm dead to receive it. And for once I will actually get to enjoy my money, let's go!" George yanked John by the arm and led him to the front door.

The entire time this went on, Mary sat on the parlor floor, a silent statue watching in absolute terror. All at once she took to the stairs and raced up to defend her daughter Jane. "I'll give Margaret and Peter your regards." George shouted out to her as he slammed the door behind him and John.

"He molested my children." Mary was out of breath and crying uncontrollably as she leaned up to the nursery's door.

"Where is Jane, Mary, did you save her?" Peter Pan asked looking down from above, where he hid, hovering against the ceiling.

"Take her to Neverland where she will be safe forever..." she replied, lost in her tears as she opened the window in the nursery.

"I just hope Captain Hook doesn't find us...He is worse than George..." Peter retorted, taking flight out of the house through the nursery window. "Don't trust him Mary, he has done very bad things..."


	44. Chapter 44 The Lost Boys

My Darling Love

Chapter 44 – The Lost Boys

"_A mother is she who can take the place of all others."_

_-Cardinal Mermillod_

George Darling lay on his bed safely under the blankets on his back. His eyes were wide open, but without his glasses all he saw was the blur that was his bedroom ceiling. His lovely queen, his wife Mary slept beside him, peaceful he imagined, for without his spectacles she was nothing but a clouded vision of rest as well. All was quiet in the house and the first specks of dawn could be seen peeking over the horizon. Instead of pitch black, it was now a grayish blue haze with the soft pelting of raindrops hitting the window. "Time to get up." George said to himself and so he leaned over and grabbed his glasses, putting them square on his face. Funny, but with them on he felt a tad bit drowsy, so he nestled back into his fluffy pillow and closed his eyes. Had he checked Mary's peculiar facial expression as she slept, the sneers and jeers, he would have been prepared for her incoming attack and not kicked from the bed.

That is exactly what happened next. Mary jerked up screaming something incomprehensible and kicked George clear out of the bed and onto the floor below. Her ranting contained words such as, "I'LL CASTRATE YOU – YOU RAT!" and "YOU ARE A FOUL LOATHSOME MISCREANT, I'LL GUT YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS." George hid by the side of the bed and waited for his wife to realize she was now in fact awake, and whatever she was talking about had happened in her dream world. She did, and when she did she called for George, just not in the tone he had wished for. "GEORGE DARLING! YOU WAIT TILL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU! I'LL KILL YOU! BASTARD! Where are you? DON'T HIDE FROM ME!"

George slowly raised his head up as well as his hand to warn her of his place and not shock her more. "I think you were having the worst nightmare imaginable, I hope, Mary dear," he spoke softly, hoping to alleviate her nasty expression of pure and utter hatred.

"George?" Mary spoke up, a little shocked herself to see his innocent face cowering by the blankets. She wanted to tell him in great detail everything that had transpired, but the bell of the front door interrupted her.

George went to their bedroom window and looked down to the stoup. Mary peered over his shoulder and directed, "Don't let him in, George, it's a trap." George turned his head to his wife with a befuddled face, offering, "Sweetheart, it was just a dream. We can't let them stand outside in the rain."

Mary dressed as quickly as George, and hurriedly explained, "Please, George, plenty of real things happen in dreams. It's a warning for us to be careful." She leaned in closely to him and whispered, "My dreams always give me messages, just like Jane's. He wants our money, and he wants to steal you away from me. Think of Jane George, please. He wants to make you evil, George, listen to me..."

George shook his head, not heeding his wife's advice, and headed down the stairs with Mary still in hot pursuit. The bell rang once more, and before George could reach the door his wife of many years tackled him to the ground, "Let him leave, if no one answers he will think we are not here."

The doorknob of the front door turned, but unlike every other time John came calling in his life, he found the door locked tight. The shadows of their eldest son and his two children leaving the porch and heading down the stairs was seen by both Mary and George from the floor of the foyer.

"George." Mary bolted up to her feet and pulled George to his as well. "Go get him, in my dream he came alone and rang the bell, banging the door and shouting and never even once tried the knob. He has our grandchildren with him George, go save them!"

George was really shaking his head now and literally knocked Mary back to the floor when he shoved her out of his way. He opened the door and quickly descended the stairs after John and the two children he now carried, for they were too tired to walk themselves. It was only drizzling when George lay in bed, but now it was a torrential downpour and Mr. Darling, John and his two little boys came into the house soaked right through to their skin.

John carried his eldest son Joseph, George carried John's second son, Edmund. "I thought you named your other child Frederick? Or was it just Fred?" Mary asked, as George handed her a little boy too exhausted to keep his eyes open, but awake enough to be shivering with chattering teeth. "No, I named him Edmund, Margaret's favorite," John replied.

They took the boys to the washroom where they were stripped of their wet clothes. Mary ran her grandsons a warm bath to help soak the chill out of their skin. John waited outside the door as Mary soaped them up and rinsed them off, trying as best she could to keep them awake as the water seemed to relax them both deeper into slumber. She examined every inch of their bodies checking for any indication of the foul behavior she had dreamt about. She found none, and wrapped each boy in a cozy soft bath towel, then dressing them each in one of George's pajamas. The garments were oversized for the small children, and Mary rolled up the sleeves and pant legs before tucking them into what had been Grandpa Joe's bed in the spare room.

"Don't worry, John, I changed the sheets that morning, and put new pillows and a fresh blanket on the bed."

John watched his mother talk without the slightest clue to what she could mean. "Where's Grandpa Joe, Mother?"

Mary stopped halfway down the stairs and looked up to her son. "He died, John." She continued down the stairs and into the kitchen, John walking slowly behind her hanging his head as he began to weep. "I'm sorry, Mother, I didn't know," he offered when George pulled out a chair for him.

"Living under a rock?" Mary asked, as she poured him a cup of tea. John gave no response and sat silently with his head in his hands still crying.

He was not a monster, and now more than ever in his aged appearance, he looked identical to George. His hairline was receding, although George was sure it was from pulling his own hair out in frustration rather than by nature. "What happened, John?" George spoke first and hushed Mary when she expressed her sarcastic disdain with; "What do you think happened George?"

"Margaret left me and the boys."

Mary shrugged her shoulders and took a spot next to George, "Obviously," in a voice that made George reprimand, "Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, if you don't have anything helpful to say, hold you tongue."

Upset, she rose from the table and whispered in her husband's ear, "If he asks for money, don't you give him one cent or I'll kill you myself."

George nodded in agreement, although not appreciating her threat, and then turned his full attention to John, "Tell me what happened."

"She just left. I don't know what happened. She was not the problem, Father, I was. I loved to spend money. I bought her everything she ever wanted and loads of stuff she didn't, and at first she was happy, but then she told me all she wanted was my love. But I didn't listen. I did love her, just not the way she wanted. It got so I couldn't even be near her. I left her alone, all by herself. She had no one. To make matter worse, I cheated on her, Father." Of this George was already well aware.

"I got involved with this woman named Caroline, she is a widow with two small boys, the same age as my boys. She was just a better mother than Margaret was. I would take the boys out to play with her boys, that's how it began. I met her when she was working for Uncle Harry. We fell in love. I told Margaret I was going to divorce her and marry Caroline because she made me happier, and yesterday evening when I returned home from work, she was gone. She left both boys by themselves and took off. Thank God the maid was there, and the cook, because God only knows what would have happened. They are so little and innocent, fending for themselves without their mother all day."

George tilted his head curiously, "So you don't need money?"

John shook his head, "I will have to tighten my belt a little, well a lot. I have enormous debts because of my spending, but once I dismiss the staff, sell the house and the automobile, I should be left with only a few loans I can gradually pay off. The reason I came, Father, is because I need Mother's help with the boys. I had to work a full time job and then another part time to keep up with the bills. I don't know the first thing about children; we had a nanny that handled everything. Margaret fired her several times because of the way she treated Martine, and she was scared about John and Edmund for some silly reason. Caroline found out what was happening when Margaret confronted her. I never told Caroline I was still married. I lied and said I was a widower, and Caroline left me too. I hurt for my sons, they are always so sad. I don't think they will miss me -- they never saw me anyway. I don't think they have been loved very much in their lives so far. Margaret was afraid to handle them, or let anyone else handle them."

George nodded and offered, "Do you want me to look over your books?" John gave his first smile in a very long time. "Would you? I was afraid to ask. But if you did that would really help me." John took a nap on the sofa in the parlor as George checked over his son's figures. Unlike Mary's dream, which she described to George upstairs leaving out the part of him molesting his own children in their room after father and son made their peace, John kept perfectly well balanced books.

They were full of overdrafts and unexplained withdraws marked in John's pen as _Louie's pocket_. George assumed these were advances given by a loan shark known in the seedy parts of the city, corrected later by Harry who informed, "Louie is the name of the gentleman who runs the boarding house Caroline and her sons lived in, John was paying their rent."

John was just as good as his father when it came to keeping a ledger, and George could find not one cent out of place. All the negative balances leaving poor John completely in the red mystified George. He had absolutely nothing saved for hard times, or for anything else for that matter. Every penny he made was spent well before it even appeared in his pay from the bank. And George knew John and his two sons were much worse off than predicted. Even after selling his home, car and everything else he had of value, he would still owe a considerable amount to several banks throughout Europe.

"Maybe I should give him some money, to help him out," George pleaded to deaf ears and as his wife cooked a late breakfast for all her houseguests after recounting John's story in its entirety ending with, "He would not even allow Margaret to come by here to visit with the children, even though she begged him every single day since the moment they were born. Margaret told him you were the only one she would trust her children with."

Mary shook her head and replied, "I knew it, George. I knew it. Did I not tell you I saw her several times in the park when I was with Jane and tried to talk to her? She told me John strictly forbade her, not wanting to have anything to do with us. Did I not tell you that she made me swear that I would not tell John that I had seen her out and about because John made her stay in the house at all times? And when I told you, you said it was Margaret's way of blaming him. I told you she apologized over and over again for being so rude to me that day in the kitchen and you just scoffed, 'She thinks we are stupid, Mary, and you always forgive too easily'," Mary said, doing her finest impression of her husband. "And now she is out on the streets with Martine because of John and his adultery. Damn! I hope she still thinks enough of us to come here."

George listened to his wife fume, and backed up from her when she swore by the stove. She fell silent and he put his best foot for John forward, changing the subject back to his original intention of aid, "I have all of Michael's money, sitting in an account just collecting interest."

Mary glared at him with a frying pan in her hand, "We agreed that money was to be for Jane."

George conceded her point and then offered another, "What about the money your father left for us? There is plenty to divide between Wendy, Jane and John."

Mary again reminded him, "He left specific instructions that the money was to be left to Jane and no other. George, he didn't even know my father died. Now I understand he has money problems, but he has no one to blame but himself. I find it hard to believe that, living in the lap of luxury on easy street in the swanky section of town, he does not receive the paper. People living twenty towns over knew of my father's death. It was in the church bulletin, not to mention posted at Harry's pub. Your brother hosted his own refreshments and special gathering the night after the funeral. Remember? And you know John goes there all the time, for Caroline." The mention of the mistress' name was catty and unpleasant.

George leaned toward Mary, touching her arm, "John said that woman was unaware he was married, and as soon as she found out he was not a widower stuck with two sons to raise by himself, she left him. Harry said she is a nice, respectable woman whose husband had been a constable killed in the line of duty."

Mary turned to George and without a word of response, pecked his cheek and went back to what was she was doing. George backed up and began to slowly stroll from the kitchen hoping his wife would not catch on to the plan he had in his head to aid his son in his financial woes. He got all the way to the staircase and had made his way up the first few steps as Mary caught up to him on the bottom landing, "George," he turned back around and gave her his full attention, "Please don't betray my trust in you and do something behind my back. If he does not receive the punishment for his mistakes, he will never learn from them. He already knows how to throw money at problems and hope they go away." George nodded his head and walked back down towards Mary. "If he sells everything, he will have nothing, not even a home for his children."

"They can stay here with us for a short time, and only for a short time." George smiled, and Mary held up her finger, "On one condition," George continued to smile and offered his own hands to encourage her participation. "Well, rather two, the first is he should not divorce Margaret nor keep her from their children. She left him only because he warned of it. You know as well as I do that it was your son's mistreatment of her that led to her leaving. Some women are not as strong as others when put on the defensive. Like father like son, I think the saying goes."

George's grin faded to a very straight face and he commented, "And the second?" Mary looked past George to the top of the stairs where Jane was rounding about heading down. She tugged on George, still sleepy eyed, and demanded, "Up!"

George obliged and Mary gazed upon her beautiful daughter, so much like her real mother in childhood, "Jane, who is your father?" She was not quite awake yet, but she knew enough to clutch George tightly around his neck and kiss his cheek. "And who is your mother?" Jane leapt from George to Mary and repeated the same actions.

Mary kept hold of Jane and gave her silent command to George in her eyes. He knew what she meant and nodded as she turned and made her way with Jane into the kitchen.

Jane had breakfast with her parents and Uncle Harry who had stopped over to check in on his family without the knowledge of the other houseguests. John, still asleep in the parlor with an afghan covering him, was unaware he was the topic of conversation in the house. Jane listened to her parents recount what details they knew, and watched their facial expressions as they speculated on the ones they didn't.

"She must have suspected something was going on but she never said anything to me. In fact, I haven't actually spoken to her directly in, well, years. John would not let me even see Martine after they were married," Uncle Harry told them with his mouth full of pancakes. "He told me best that she thinks him her father."

"He was working all the time, and when he wasn't working he was spending the rest of the time with the other woman," George responded, too annoyed that it was his affair that left Mary muttering "I told you so," to eat.

"Well, if Peter is back in town and he has Margaret, it's only a matter of time before he comes calling here. Best if John stays elsewhere," George said, making his wife jerk her head towards him.

"Why would you think Peter has Margaret, and why would you think Peter is still in town? Have you heard from him George?"

George looked like a deer caught in headlights from the wide eyes he got looking about at his wife and brother. "No, I just assumed if Margaret left, where else would she go? And you said it yourself, Mary, in your dream she was with Peter." Mary tilted her head forward searching George's face for some sign the he hid something behind his spectacles. "I also said in my dream she took her two sons with her."

A visible light seemed to go off inside Harry's head and his suggestion broke the tension that descended over the kitchen, "He can stay with me! And Mary, and you could look after his boys. Jane would like a playmate, wouldn't you, darling?" Jane smiled from ear to ear, and was eager to meet the children of whom Uncle Harry spoke.

Jane now pulled on her mother's arm, asking Mary to introduce her to the little boys sleeping upstairs. Mary got up, but leaned down to George's ear and whispered, "That was a dream, and very bad one at that with not one bit of truth in it. If you have heard from or seen Peter, George, you are to tell me right now."

George was still and looked up to his wife, not at all appreciating her threatening tone, and just to be spiteful at a time when it was not needed he replied, "He is my brother, Mary, and I can see him whenever I want."

Mary now released Jane's hand (Jane had been doing her best to drag her mother to the stairs) and glared at her husband in absolute anger. Harry did his best to cool off the situation by remarking, "Gracious, George, with that tone of voice and look on your face, you could pass for our father." Mary, whose look could have killed a moment before, looked at Harry in shock.

George's expression also snapped to one of shock, and he quickly turning to his wife and took her hand, rubbing it lovingly, "No, Mary, I haven't seen or heard from Peter in years. I just thought because Margaret ... Never mind, you were right, she would not chase after him, more so she would run from him. Hopefully she will run here."

It soothed Mary enough, and so, with Jane, she was free to creep up the stairs softly, as George and Harry continued their conversation in the kitchen. They peeked in through the bedroom door and saw both boys awake hiding under the blankets. Mary tiptoed over to them, and gently peeled back the blankets. Both boys jumped from the bed and quickly hid underneath it and would not come out. "Alright, you can stay there if you like, but I will leave you a hot breakfast on the table over there in a moment. Then I will take Jane to the nursery and we will be reading stories and playing games. You are welcome to join us, if you like."

As good as her word, she brought them a full breakfast tray. She took Jane leaving both the door to their room as well as the nursery wide open.

"Why did they hide, Mother?" Jane asked as she dressed her favorite doll in a pretty pink dress.

"I'm not really sure, Jane. Perhaps they were frightened to awake in a bed that was not their own."

Jane thought a moment, and then replied, "I hate to wake up in a different bed. Although I never was scared if I did."

Jane had never slept in any bed that wasn't her own (that her mother was aware of) and her words made Mary laugh. Mary dressed her favorite doll in blue, and together with their imaginary friends, set up the table in the nursery for a grand tea party. Mary and Jane wore their white gloves and fancy hats and sipped the tiny teacups gossiping back and forth about how fabulous the ball that King George had given to honor the fair maiden Gwendolyn the night before. When they were done, Jane yawned, and Mary began reading her stories.

"Which one?" Mary asked, and Jane pointed. She picked several and brought them to the rug centered in the room. Together they sat wrapped in a blanket and Mary told the story three little bears and one blonde headed girl who entered into their house uninvited. "The bears should have eaten her up, that's what they should have done," Jane answered when Mary asked, "What do you think happened next?" after the story had ended.

Mary always asked Jane what came next in hopes of developing her imagination, just like she had with Wendy. "If something happens after the story is over mother, why don't they write it down."

Mary gave it some thought and then answered, "So you can decide how it should end in your own mind. What if you read a story that had an ending that your didn't like, but the story was well up until the part. Then you wouldn't like the story. This way you can end it yourself. Me, I always prefer happy endings. I think the three bears invited Goldilocks over for tea and she apologized for being so rude. After they forgave her, they invited her over every Saturday for porridge and a nap in baby bear's bed."

Jane giggled, "Oh, Mother..."

They began the next fairy tale about a little girl dressed in red, dispatched to her grandmother's house to deliver some baked goods. When they got to the part where the wolf in grandmother's clothing told the child he would eat her, two little boys gasped from the doorway and ran back to their room, again taking shelter under the bed. Mary raised her voice to shouting as she finished with how the valiant woodcutter and Grandmother saved the day by defeating the big bad wolf. "WHAT DO YOU THINK HAPPENED NEXT?" Mary said loudly, as Jane yelled her own reply, "THEY HAD THE CAKES AND TREATS LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD BROUGHT WITH HER, AND THEN THE GRANDMOTHER MADE TEA, AND MADE EVERYONE DANCED A JIG TO THE MUSIC HER PIANO PLAYED."

The smaller boy, Edmund, peeked back into the room and asked quietly, "Who was playing the piano?"

Mary looked to Jane who looked back to her mother, and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, dearest, it's your story." Jane looked up to the ceiling and squinted her eyes, as though the answer was just there, and she just had to see it. When she did she replied proudly, "They had invited Goldilocks over because she too had eaten all of the grandmother's porridge and had to apologize. For being so bad they made her play the piano."

The two little boys stayed in the doorway and would come no closer, even though Mary asked them to. Finally, after Hansel and Gretel, Jane got up and dragged them both by their arms in and under the blankets alongside Mary. "It's rude to linger in the hall and listen to other people talk. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? My father always says when he catches me listening when I shouldn't be; this is an A and B conversation, so C your way out of it. Then he pats me on my fanny, but it doesn't hurt, so don't be scared. I don't want no one's fanny's getting patted, so come in and sit down, consider yourselves invited."

Mary read yet another story, this one was much longer about a poor young girl who lost her father and got stuck being a maid for her stepmother and two sisters. As she recited the tale, the two boys, her grandsons, sat leaning against one another wide eyed as if this was the first time in their lives anyone had ever read anything to them. Jane rested on the bed above her mother lying on her belly already bored with Cinderella, having heard it one hundred and ten times. Each page Mary turned the two boys moved further and further away from one another and closer and closer to her. By the time she was finished and asked what happened next, each boy was nestled alongside of her watching her face and not the book she held in front of her. She glanced to Joseph first and he suspected, "They had lots of babies and made that mean old stepmother the court jester." Then she turned her attention to Edmund who added, "And the two stepsisters, they opened a dress shop, but Cinderella never went there."

Jane scoffed at their ideas, giving her own which, in her mind, were by far the best. "Jane, that's a fine idea, and Joseph and Edmund's ideas were just as fine as well. Remember, there is no one right answer, it's what our imaginations tell each of us, and each of us is different."

The boys wanted her to read on, but Jane insisted they play with her dollhouse. "That's okay, we will just watch," Joseph replied when Jane smacked his hand when he touched a delicate little person who resided inside.

"Martine never let us plays with her toys either," Edmund added, tugging on Mary's apron. Up until the boys came in and snuggled up with her, she had all intentions of telling her husband that their own son should take the boys with him when he left for Harry's flat.

"John and the children can live in Harry's flat and Harry can move in with us, I don't want those boys here. Think of the effect those spoiled brats will have on Jane," she had planned to say. But looking down into those deep blue eyes changed her mind instantly. Jane, she saw, was the one who was getting spoiled, and those two little boys were the best thing that could have happened.

"No, toys in this room belong to all the children in this house, including both you boys. And those toys should be shared and enjoyed by all. Jane, let Joseph and Edmund play with the dollhouse as well. Maybe even, play a game they will find amusing. What games do you like to play?" She directed her questions at her grandsons, and they shrugged their shoulders. "We don't know any games."

Jane took a stiff stance to her mother's attitude and stormed from the room, "I AM NOT PLAYING WITH BOYS!"

Mary showed Joseph and Edmund, Uncle Michael's old train set and then took off after Jane who was crying on the top steps.

"Jane, dearest, you should not be selfish. I am not only speaking of toys, games and books, those little boys need lots of love, and we have plenty to share with them. Just like the cookies I make on Sundays. It's not fair if you ate all of them and didn't leave any for Father or Uncle Harry." Mary wiped the angry tears from Jane's face and embraced her.

"What happens if there isn't enough for everybody, then I'll get none because you will want to give to them 'cause you feel sorry for them?" Jane sobbed.

Mary smiled and held her hands on Jane's face, drawing her attention. "There is and will always be enough in this house to go around. If there comes a time when we are lacking, we will make more. Do you remember Grandpa Joe's favorite story from the bible Jane?"

Jane closed her eyes tightly, thinking really hard on it. "I can't remember," she conceded. "It was the story about how God made enough food to feed all those people who came to hear his son's sermon."

Now Jane recalled the exact chapter and verse, and repeated it to her mother word for word. "Jesus soon saw a great crowd of people climbing the hill, looking for him. Turning to Philip, he asked, _"Philip, where can we buy bread to feed all these people?"_ He was testing Philip, for he already knew what he was going to do. ****Philip replied, "It would take a small fortune to feed them!" Then Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, spoke up. There's a young boy here with five barley loaves and two fish. But what good is that with this huge crowd?" _"Tell everyone to sit down,"_ Jesus ordered. So all of them – the men alone numbered five thousand – sat down on the grassy slopes. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks to God, and passed them out to the people. Afterward he did the same with the fish. And they all ate until they were full. _"Now gather the leftovers,"_ Jesus told his disciples, _"so that nothing is wasted."_ There were only five barley loaves to start with, but twelve baskets were filled with the pieces of bread the people did not eat!"

Mary smiled and continued on with her own sermon of sorts, "You see Jane, we will make enough love for everyone in this house and no one will go without. There will be enough to fill our hearts and leave leftovers. You must remember, they not only need your father and me, they need you, too. You will have to teach them to play games and read stories and have fun. You will be their teacher, but a nice teacher like I am to you. Your father and I always make everyone welcome in our home, which is this lesson I am bestowing on you. When someone needs help, and you can give it, you should."

Jane was not fully convinced her mother was correct, but she would be. For now, she conceded and slowly walked back to the nursery. Alone, without Mary's supervision, she played in her dollhouse and cast angry glares to the newcomers. They tried to make the train go as Mary had showed them, but could not, so they gave up and sat on the edge of Jane's bed and watched her play. She moved from the dollhouse to the toy soldiers to the block set she got for Christmas, each time the boys asked if they could play with her, each time she shrieked, "NO, YOU WILL BREAK IT!" Soon, as she began coloring, they stopped asking and moved back to the doorway, and then to Grandpa Joe's room where they waited to be called for supper.

Jane was deep in her doodling when she heard giggling coming from down the hall. Worried there was fun to be had without her -- on a rainy day trapped inside -- she ran from her room. The laughter was coming from the downstairs and she ran down them so fast she almost fell when she reached the bottom. Round the stair post, to the kitchen, she found the two little boys with faces covered in sugar and flour and warm cookies straight from the oven in shapes of little hearts cooling on the rack by the window.

Joseph and Edmund each had a cookie cutter and were hacking away at the dough Mary had rolled, placing their creations on the pans, ready to bake. "They are not as good as yours, Mama, but we're trying." Mary smiled as she removed her oven mitts and sat down beside them hard at work, "All I ask is that you try. And just by trying your hardest, you will always learn something."

She caught sight of Jane standing before her and like she had been taught by her father, she politely asked, "May I have a cookie, Mother?"

Mary stuck out her lower lip and tilted her head, "I don't know, they are not my cookies to share. They are Joseph and Edmund's and you will have to ask them." Mary rose from the table and began sweeping the kitchen floor.

Jane slowly approached Joseph and extended her right hand, "I'm Jane Darling, pleased to meet you."

It was Edmund she was making acquaintances with and he shook her hand back with a vigorous pump, "I'm Edmund Darling and this is my brother Joseph Darling." Joseph reached across and shook Jane's hand as well.

"My pop-pop's name was Joseph too, wow!" Jane hopped up onto the seat Mary vacated. "All of us have the same last name, too!" Edmund reiterated and continued, "Do you want to help us? We are learning to make cookies but we're not good at it yet."

Jane looked at her mother who grinned and wrapped an apron around the little girl to keep the doughy mess off her pretty dress. "Could I? Oh, they are glorious cookies, even if they are misshaped, they still taste wonderful." Both boys nodded and Jane was assigned the job of icing. "Look, you got aprons too!" Jane noticed, as the merry bunch began giggling and carrying on.

"After this, we should go to the nursery and eat our cookies and play hide and go seek, but only if you want to. James says I can be bossy sometimes, I don't mean to be." Jane added happily. Mary, hearing that name in particular, turned on her heel and looked directly at Jane, she only returning an adoring grin to her mother.

The somber attitude of the Darling boys was instantly lifted and before Mary could give voice they joyfully replied, "We don't mind you being bossy. But we don't know that game. "

Jane was taken aback and asked, "What games do you know how to play? We'll do that instead. Maybe that will be best." As Jane spoke, she again turned to her mother, who nodded that was in fact the best resolution. Mary wanted to ask Jane of the "James" she had spoken of, but again, she was interrupted by the boys who shrugged their shoulders and answered, "none, no one ever played with us."

Mary looked on with her own adoring grin as Jane told them, "It doesn't matter, I know lots of stuff to do, and we'll have so much fun together and be best friends forever."

They ate their cookies together, and as a united force of adolescence rained down mayhem on the house that day. It was all in good fun and not one adult in the house minded all the bliss that took place around them. "I've never seen them this happy before," John told his mother as she cleaned the supper dishes. "They know you are a mother, that's why they love you so already."

Mary turned to John who for the first time in many years offered her an olive branch of a kiss on the cheek and a strong embrace that she broke first, also a premier event. "They told me that you are their mother, and they were quite cross with me for not letting them see you sooner."

"They think I am their mother? Where ever would they get that idea?"

"I'm not sure, they said you just felt like a mama to them."


	45. Chapter 45 Cat and Mouse

_Author's Note: Here we begin the truly despairing chapters of the story. I shall do my best to lead you through the darkness – Please bear with me, there is light at the end of the tunnel... although it will take me the next few chapters to get there. My sincerest thanks to my beta reader Cheetahlee, whom, without her help, I would still be wondering about lost in the shadows._

My Darling Love

Chapter 45 – Cat and Mouse

_"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."_

_-Joseph Conrad_

And so "Mama" it was to Joseph and Edmund who moved in with Mary and George. They called their grandfather "Papa," and considered him more of a father than John, who took up George's old bedroom at Uncle Harry's flat. The children blended well together, once they all learned the important lesson of sharing and taking turns. Soon, everything was at it once had been when Wendy, John and Michael lived in the nursery. The children went off into their own worlds of imaginary adventures, leaving Mary and George, older parents for younger children with each other at home. "You said you wanted another baby, Mary, now we have three," George chuckled to Mary as the laundry piled up and dirty dishes crowded the sink.

She shook her head, laughing. "However did I manage when our own children were that age? I guess I was younger myself, with more energy."

The maid that John released came to work for George and Mary. She was an older proper maid of British decent, the type Aunt Millicent would surely have approved of. Very short, extremely stout with gray hair held up in a bun, and always attired in the correct uniform of house servant, she gave them bits and pieces of information about their estranged daughter-in-law, happy to have any position still available to her. "To tell you the truth, she really wasn't bad to the children, but having baby boys made her uncomfortable in some odd way, she always avoided handling them. But she absolutely adored her daughter, she used to dress her up and carry her all over like she was a china doll. She was very friendly to the cook and I, and everyone else that ever came calling for that matter."

After being employed by Mr. and Mrs. George Darling for a month, and receiving her first raise ever in her career, she informed then with much honesty, "I know you want to know where Margaret is, and if I knew I would tell you. I came to work early one morning and she was gone. I overheard you and Mr. Darling speaking about a man you called Peter, and I must tell you I never heard that name mentioned by anyone other than Martine. And he was only her imaginary friend."

The maid leaned toward her employers and whispered, "It was Mr. John Darling having the affair, sir, and his missus was a very faithful wife to him. She was very obedient and always well behaved. Mrs. John Darling was a proper lady of the manor, although I must say, I'm not sure she knew how to smile. But that being what it was, she was always very friendly. "

George paid her in full her back wages that John owed her, as he did John's cook, but because he still preferred his wife's cooking to all others, there was no position to be found for her at their door.

George and Mary had no idea when Jane was born; Wendy left nothing but her name on the note. So, they assigned her birth date the day she arrived, which made her a few months younger than Joseph. Edmund came not even a year after his brother, so the three children were so close in age that when the school year began, they were all put in the same class. On their first day, as Mary and George dropped them off, dressed in their best, the teacher named them "The Darling Triplets."

"And at your age, dear, it's a wonder you didn't die giving them life," the teacher told Mary, and George simply nodded, feeling it better to allow certain matters commonly accepted as truth than to disagree and have go into lengthy explanations.

The children enjoyed their lessons, and spent each day after school at the kitchen table doing their homework. When homework was completed, they raced up the stairs and played a game all the children loved. Each would take turns pretending to be the teacher attending to their dutiful students. Mary bought them a blackboard and they spent their afternoons rehearsing all that they had studied so far. With kindergarten completed, next it was first grade, and still the children played school.

John worked a full-time job and a part-time one after that. He only came to visit his sons on Sundays, but for the most part, being his only day of rest, he did just that, napping on the sofa while his two active sons played with their adopted sister. Uncle Harry spent much of his time at the house, and soon decided to leave his flat to John, and moved in with George and Mary in Grandpa Joe's room. "It's alright, George. When Jane gets older, she can take Wendy's room."

George was not convinced, thinking it best to eliminate the separation anxiety the children would encounter later in their youth, he suggested, "Uncle Harry will take the attic, and Jane will take Grandpa Joe's old room." Mary agreed at the time, but thought better of it later when she ascended the stairs and looked about at her eldest child, her daughter Wendy's room.

Mary had left all her things, as they were, not moving anything that Wendy had placed inside. Everything had a layer of dust covering it, including the bed, which creaked and blew out an enormous puff of dust when she sat down, which set Mary to sneezing. The closets were empty, and her vanity table had been cleaned out. Wherever she went on her adventure, she took all her personal effects with her but one. She left George's gift set from Paris. Looking through her daughter's writing desk, Mary found letters from her gentleman friend in New York City, notes and cards from people she met in school and at social functions she had rarely attended.

The last drawer in the desk, Wendy's dream drawer, was unlocked. The key was inserted inside, leaving her mother to turn the bolt. Mary did slowly and then swiftly pulled out the drawer. There were only two items left inside, a large velvet box and the note underneath.

_On second thought, this is no fair trade._

Mary read the note again as George read it over her shoulder. "I have no idea whom this is from or what this is about. Who could afford to give Wendy such a gift and why would she not take it with her?" Mary asked wonderingly, pulling out a gorgeous diamond necklace fitted with rubies, emerald and sapphires.

"Fair trade for what?" George asked, touching her shoulder.

"George, I have no idea."

Mary walked with George down the stairs, and helped her children dress in their overcoats and watch after them as they walked towards school. With their departure, they both went upstairs to their room, and gathered the necklace.

With it in their custody, their first stop was to a jeweler to appraise its value. "Worth a fortune, Mr. Darling. If I am not mistaken, the diamonds taken from the necklace that you had made for your wife a few years back were brought here and pawned. I sold them to an older gentleman whose name escapes me at the moment. I couldn't tell you if these were the same ones. The markings on the back say it was set at the jeweler across town. You should check there, they could give you a better idea of how it came into your possession."

"Peter must have sold the diamonds for money," Mary offered as they made their way across town.

So they went to the other jeweler next, and the head jeweler recognized his prized piece. "Crafted it myself from the gentleman's design." He checked the name on the order in his records and told Mary, "Very strange, he didn't leave a name, only his initials." The jeweler gave Mary the client card that read, "C.J.H."

"If I remember correctly, he was a short stocky man with a gray beard. His clothes were filthy, I almost threw him out of my shop, but then he paid cash, so, well ... He said he wasn't the man who was ordering the piece, just his messenger. He dropped off all the stones and then picked up the necklace a month later." Mary and George walked slowly home turning the letter over and over in their heads, which were devoid of any idea of the identity of their daughter's admirer.

George and Mary took apart Wendy's old room from floor to ceiling, looking for any hint of the man's true name. Finally when they were exhausted and encountered not even the slightest clue, they both sat on the floor nearest her bed. The floorboard underneath George creaked and when he moved to get a better look at the spot that needed mending, the piece of wood he leaned his hand upon shot up and exposed a secret compartment underneath. When Wendy emptied it years before, she left one item that her parents now assumed she hoped one day they her parents would find. Finally, on that afternoon, they did.

It was an old drawing of a pirate captain with a hook for a right hand and standing next to him in an elegant dress, one Mary imagined right out of Wendy's stories, was a stunning young lady that closely resembled their daughter. It was inscribed at the bottom,

"**_Capt. Jas Hook & The Fair Maiden Gwendolyn" _**

"Well at least we are getting closer to a correct name," Mary fumed; as she stood up frustrated with the game of cat and mouse their daughter seemed to be engaging them in.

"What is the meaning of this, and that?" George pointed to the necklace Mary had clasped in her hand and its mirror image around the neck of the young lady standing arm and arm with the pirate captain in the picture. "George, I don't know. Truly," she responded.

"They are one and the same." George gave his expert opinion.

"I know, dearest, but I have no idea what this could be about." As her husband began ransacking everything not already turned upside down and inside out in Wendy's room, Mary grabbed his arm. "It really doesn't matter, George. Wendy, wherever she is, is never coming back. If she's with this man, all we can hope is that he loves her enough to be good to her and keep her happy. So, best that I can tell, none of this really matters."

George scoffed the notion with a whisper, "Look at him closely, Mary, he's Jane's father, I know it. He didn't even want his own child, what kind of man is that?"

Mary glanced at the picture, yellowed with time; it did not reveal anything about the man except he had long curly dark hair and a moustache. His facial features were smeared by whatever was used to draw the picture in the first place. "You can't tell anything by looking at this, George. And we only assume Jane is Wendy's, maybe she belongs to someone else, a stranger who abandoned her with us instead of an orphanage."

George pulled himself up and dusted the grime from his pants. "Are you telling me you disbelieve for one moment that Jane is Wendy's child?"

Mary shook her head. "I think she is, but we don't know anything about her paternity, and guessing -- with no possibility of actually knowing the correct answer -- is an utter waste of time. Maybe one day we will know, but not today. And like I just told you, it doesn't matter, not for us, not for Jane, not for Wendy."

Mary handed George a large box and began throwing things Wendy left in her old room inside. George stood for a moment watching Mary, and then copied her, doing the same. They worked in silence for the rest of the afternoon, and well after supper was served, and the children were in bed before they finally finished.

Mary glanced through everything once before discarding the useless items. The rest she marked and placed neatly in the cupboard of the attic, against the farthest wall. George washed the dinner dishes and Mary dried them and put them away. The nighttime fairies made their rounds and then retired to their own bedroom.

"You know, Mary, we haven't made love in a very long time." George grinned as Mary dressed in her nightgown and brushed out her hair standing by her vanity.

"You've been so tired lately and worried, I didn't think you wanted to."

George looked amorously at his wife of many years, and then patted her side of the bed. Mary, seeing his actions, could not contain her giggle and raced over next to him, cuddling up into his kiss.

After their passion, they lay next to one another smirking like the young couple they once were. "Remember when we thought we could only do that once a day? How foolish were we in our youth."

George laughed as Mary reminisced about years past. "Remember the morning we made Wendy? And on our honeymoon in the countryside, George? What was your favorite time, you know, with making love?"

George laughed a little louder than he meant to, and then closed his eyes and thought back. "Chaise lounge, while you were dressing to go out. You sprayed that fancy perfume over your dress, and well... You remember." He giggled like a little schoolboy recounting the details of what Mary was to be remembering in his head when she abruptly turned on her side away from him and covered herself up the neck.

George leaned up on his arm, "What's wrong?"

Mary moved her face into her pillow, presumably to wipe away a tear that ran down her cheek when she responded, "George, we've never made love on a chaise lounge."

George started to explain further, "Well, dearest, we started on the lounge and then rolled over unto the floor and then..."

Suddenly he had an unusual mix of emotions hit him at once. He was angry at himself for the mixup, although when in his memory he saw Mary's face, confused, for could he would swear on his children it was in fact Mary...

Now terrified of his wife's wrath when her own haze of feelings cleared, and sick to his stomach that of all the times he could have called to mind, this is the one he did. He peeked over at Mary, who had her eyes closed, and then slowly moved back down on the bed and covered himself also up to the neck and waited for her words. Her silence was killing him and after only a minute he could bear it no longer.

"Mary..." He touched her shoulder. She didn't speak, only nodded and he continued, "I'm sorry, I could have..."

Mary shook her head and raised her hand that rested nearest him, "Forget it, it is me, George, not you. Just say a prayer for Wendy."

George said a prayer for Wendy and Jane and then a rosary for Mary before falling asleep.

Mary awoke first, well before dawn and sat in the rocking chair she had in the nursery and watched her babies sleep. So innocent to the world they were, and so peaceful in their dreams. One by one, as the sun rose above the horizon, they opened their eyes with a yawn and stretch, not to mention a smile to their mother, or "mama," as the boys called her, and then a kiss. She dressed them up in play clothes, and before the morning haze had even lifted above the street, they were out the door and to the park.

George woke up and found Mary's side of the bed empty. He dressed quickly, hearing the house silent, and ran downstairs to search out the missing residents. Fearing Mary was devastated about the prior evening's events, he got quite upset when he found no trace of them anywhere. Then he entered the kitchen.

Mary and the children had made him a makeshift breakfast of misshaped muffins and crumpets, "Eat me," the direction of one of the boys written with crayon. A teapot on the stove with a note attached in Jane's scribble, "Drink me." On the table with a neatly folded napkin over a plate, Mary had written, "We went to the park to play, join us when you are finished with breakfast."

George stuffed an entire muffin into his mouth, swigged down at teacup, nearly causing himself to choke as he quickly dressed in his jacket and hat and raced out the door. He ran all the way to the park and was out of breath and winded when he found Mary sitting on a bench watching the children chase after one another in a never-ending game of tag. "Good morning, Mary, how are you feeling today?"

Mary had a very pleasant look of amusement, and only glanced at George as he took a seat next to her. Before she could answer or give him her full attention the children took notice of his arrival and ran up to him.

"Father, look what we found." Each of the children had an ugly fat frog they held in their hands and as George fixed his glasses, they pushed them forward to give him a better look. "Can we keep them?" they all begged loudly.

George turned to Mary who closed her eyes tightly and looked away. He knew the answer, and he knew he was to be the one to give it to them, so he did. "No." Simple and to the point, the children lowered their heads and began weeping. "Maybe Mama will let us get a dog as a pet," George offered to their devastated expressions.

The children jumped up, looking to their mother, and she smiled widely and nodded her head. These Darling children had never known Nana. She had died in her sleep years before, and was buried in the backyard. Of all the headstones George was required to purchase, he took the most care -- next to his son's -- with Nana's. Most crafters of tombstones had never created one for a pet before, and the one George enlisted thought it was a fine idea to honor a loyal family pet. He charged George half price for the stone on the one condition that George allowed him to tell people it was his own original idea. "Soon they will have pet cemeteries all over England. I'm sure of it," the mason said as he leveled it over Nana's grave. The next day, outside his shop he had a large sign hung advertising his new invention.

**NANA DARLING**

**Loyal Nurse, Family Pet**

This day, the children put fresh picked flowers from the park down near her grave and said a prayer for her. They retired to their beds with dreams of puppies and kittens running about the house for their amusement. Even though Papa said "No," Joseph did not release his frog, and hid him in the toy box away from Mama's eyes. George and Mary sat in the parlor, George looking over the house accounts, Mary doing her needlepoint.

Every so often, George would turn around to glance at his wife, trying to figure out her blank expression. Not so mindless, he thought, but more mindful and of what he had no idea. "I'm going to retire, George," Mary offered, as she lay down her handiwork and rose from the sofa. It was still quite early in the evening, and George was not tired at all.

"All right dear, I'll be up in a little bit." Mary nodded to him, and without a kiss good night she took to the stairs.

Instead of returning to his books, George was lost in thought, just sitting at his desk trying to make some kind of sense of what was to happen next. Just as he was sure Mary was doing all day, he repeated his memory in his mind, and every time he played it back, it was indeed his wife and no other whom he had engaged in passion on the chaise lounge. He was so lost in the past that he never heard Mary walk up behind him, nor touch his shoulder to gain his attention. She leaned in front of him and ran her hand over his glazed over eyes to bring him back to the present.

"George, it was that night at Sir Edmund and his wife's annual dinner party. The night the children went missing. After dinner, you and I strolled through their home, and peeked into their bedroom. I sprayed myself with Mrs. Couch's fancy French perfume, and then laid on the chaise lounge in their bedroom. You told me I looked like a queen, but you didn't feel much like a king, more so a court jester, and I joked that Queens often have affairs with court jesters when the king is not around. We made love on the floor in their room and broke the lamp nearest the bed. The maid caught us and told us we had to leave the party or she would tell Mr. Couch where she found us and what we were doing. The reason I was mad at you was because you would not allow me to purchase a new dress, and I got stuck wearing the gown your brother Peter purchased for me in Paris. Old memories I just wish I could not remember." Mary said in all seriousness before giggling with her hand over her mouth and then pecked George on the cheek. "That would not have been my favorite choice."

Mary turned to head back from the direction she came, and George grabbed her hand. "When?"

Mary smiled and touched his cheek. "I can't tell you, you will be angry." Now she was truly laughing out loud and George was taken aback by her hillarity.

"No, now I must know," he demanded pulling on her hand in attempt to bring her closer. Mary got very serious and leaned down to whisper in his ear. She gave him a specific date with no other information and he reared his head back, baffled.

God in heaven, watching something else, jerked His own head up and over to the Darling House. He gazed about frantically, as if worried that something was about to happen being far beyond His reach or control. His eyes fell back down to George and Mary where He kept his attention until suddenly, thinking of a salvation that could be utilized later on if need be, He shifted in his seat casting his visions over to Neverland. Captain Hook was busy being a dreadful pirate, chasing children out of the forest, and Peter Pan flying overhead was shouting the safest direction for his friends to follow for escape. A bolt of lightening struck down right in front of Captain Hook who was in hot pursuit of the new lost boys, stopping him dead in his tracks. He looked up to the night sky and grimaced, giving up on his hunt and stomping back to the Jolly Roger. Peter Pan landed right there in God's clear vision and bowed respectfully. With that taken care of, God uncomfortably shifted on his throne and turned His concentration back to George and Mary Darling.

"I don't understand?" George queried as she again began to giggle. "Only if you promise not to be mad." George tilted his head toward her, giving her permission.

God was watching closely now, and He Himself covered His eyes as Mary stepped back from her husband of many years and answered, "That was the time we conceived John. We made love in the morning and I spent the better part of the day with my legs raised in the air trying to keep your..." unsure of the word she continued, "well, what you have that make a baby inside of me. It worked, for then we had another and our first son. You said we could not afford another baby, but I wanted one so much. I prayed to God and he answered my prayers for once that way was enough."

George ran through the scenario in his mind, and God in heaven peeked through His almighty fingers, seeing George remember not only that event, but also all events leading up to and after. God knew Mary was right in her assumption before she made it; George was not only angry, he was utterly furious.

"You tricked me...you trapped me..." He rose from his chair hard and knocked it over, pushing Mary out of the way as he went. He stormed down the hall and to the kitchen, through the back door and out into the backyard. He stood there for a few minutes and then thundered back in. Mary was waiting in the kitchen unexpectedly fearful of his livid expression.

"We were flat broke and I told you we could not afford another baby, not to mention having Wendy almost killed you and with the hell your parents and my parents were putting us through at the time, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

He stomped down the hall and stood in the foyer before turning and stomping into the parlor, Mary following anxiously behind him the whole way. "I can't believe it. You are a liar, a complete and total bold face liar. I asked you if it was your mistake or mine and you told me a little bit of both, what did that mean? You, for being a sneaky untrustworthy bitch, or me, for being the fool who believed you only could speak the truth! You have done nothing since the moment we met but lie and deceive me. I can't tell when you are telling the truth and when you are making things up to suit yourself. And worst of all, I am the one who always suffers due to your selfishness. When will it end Mary? When I am dead?"

Mary was speechless, as was God. She had lied a lot, well, not so much lied as withheld the truth from him on many occasions, but only to protect him, at least that would be her defense. George always was honest, and only once had he sinned against her. And even then, he hid nothing from her. He made his affair completely obvious to her, wanting to get caught. George stared at Mary with his father's ruthless eyes and shouted, "Well, nothing to say for yourself?"

He lowered his head and shook it, holding his hands on his hips muttering to himself. Mary still could not find the words and so she attempted to touch George, hoping to sooth the malice that seemed to pour out of him into the room. "Do not touch me, Mary, with your foul hands." George jerked away and Mary still holding her hand out to him began to cry. "Oh wonderful, Mary, and now you are going to cry. So not only are you a foul deceitful deliberate liar, you are also an actress. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Mary knew on the advice of her mother-in-law and her own father that this day would eventually come, and now it was here. "I swear to you, Mary, if you don't get out of my sight this very moment, I won't be able to control myself. And as I am sure you can imagine, you know what's coming next!" George shouted, still looking downward, shaking his head so quickly back and forth, Mary would swear it would surely come off if he continued. "Mary, please, I'm begging you, get out of my sight," George hissed shoving her once to get his point across. George was not the only one who was begging, God was too, but His voice was shushed by the devil standing in the Darling's parlor.

What Mary was to do? She felt she deserved it, and so she held her footing firm and closed her eyes in preparation. Wiser it would have been to at least defend herself by holding up her hands, for that is what God shouted. But she felt it better to let it hit her full force expecting only a slap. It was to be more than a slap, so when what was coming did finally come, she was unprepared for the strength behind it and faltered and backed up but did not fall from sheer shock.

Again, it would have been sensible to hit the floor, but foolishly she just stood there as the onslaught of George's fists to her face and head dropped her like a sack of potatoes to the parlor floor. Her last salvation was to roll into a ball, protecting the most delicate parts of her frame, but disbelief and pain filled her from top to bottom and she lay straight as an arrow out on the floor. And so it got worse as her husband of many years took one last good kick, a direct hit to her belly that broke something within her and stole her discourse of agony. And then for no reason, he kicked her again.

_"Mary Elizabeth, even though George has promised you he will never hit you again for any reason, you must remember that he has hit you once. He is still is his father's son. No matter what the reason for it, it only means one thing, at another time, somewhere in that far off future, he will hit you again. Listen to me Mary Elizabeth, as I am your father and you are my daughter, my only child. George, your husband, will hit you again and it will be worse than the first. I promise you thereafter when his hand is raised to you in anger the second time the beatings will begin. There is still evil hiding in him. I promise you that."_ Grandpa Joe had told her many years before.

George had warned her repeatedly, and now he glanced into Mary's face and saw her eyes were closed. He couldn't hear God either. But the devil was there, and he was giving George an earful. _Mary is a stubborn woman, she always has been, and now she is just taunting you by holding her tongue. Just another bout of the silent treatment she always puts forth when caught in one her little games. _So George, being the man he was, felt it was time again to put Mary in her place and slapped her hard with an open hand across the cheek. Mary did not collapse or falter, she just kept her ground and her voice and so this time he backhanded her.

She made no attempt to stop him or react, so, as the anger and resentment grew within him, he found his fist clutched tightly and beyond his control as he repeatedly struck her in the head and face. Finally, she fell, and in one last try to force something out of her, he kicked her as hard as he could in the stomach, and even then, Mary, his willful and egotistical wife, was silent.

"You think me weak, don't you!" he shouted down to her as he pulled his foot back again. Mary wished she could make her mouth work, but found she had enough trouble breathing, let alone speaking, so she shook her head as hurriedly as he had in response. George wanted desperately to kick her again, just one more time for all the heartache she caused him throughout the years. The devil, happy to have sneaked in undetected, leaned on George's shoulder and whispered in his ear. His mother's voice echoed in his head to where he heard nothing else but her _"Put her in her place George. Your wife needs to know her place."_

He felt he had no choice and sent one more boot forward into her. "Now you know your place in my house." George screamed as he left the parlor and ascended the stairs to their room.


	46. Chapter 46 Devil in the Flesh

_Author's Note: First, my continued appreciate to Cheetahlee. Chapter 46 is very out of character for George, and I did my very best to explain why throughout. There is to be a lot of background information, plus loads of forewarnings getting thrown about in the next few chapters - so if something doesn't make sense when you read it, it will later. With that being said..._

My Darling Love

Chapter 46 – Devil in the Flesh

"_We must remember that Satan has his miracles too."_

_-John Calvin_

George went up to the bathroom and washed his hands, cleansing them thoroughly of his wife's blood. He proceeded to his bedroom without a second thought; he removed his clothes, dressed himself in clean pajamas, and rested comfortably in bed, asleep in only a minute. Mary lay on the floor unmoving, while the devil sat on the sofa and laughed. Crimson red seeped from her mouth and as she tried to open her eyes she found them already swollen shut. Best to keep them closed, since the light in the room made them ache when she peered though the slits she forced open.

Mary pulled herself over to the chair nearest her and tried to stand, holding one arm on her side and using the other to lift herself back on her feet. Her ears were ringing, and she could not hear her own weeping or her wails of anguish when she bent at the waist to rise. She fell back to the floor and remained there for the rest of the night. She called for her husband's aid several times, but heard no response, not even the sound of the door to their room opening.

The first light of dawn crept into the windows, and Mary had been awake through the hours of darkness. Without the strength or the will to make herself move farther than the chair or the floor, she wet herself and continued to bleed from her mouth. She noticed blood also drained from one of her ears, not by seeing it, for her face was so swollen, it was unrecognizable. She felt the moisture in her hair and touched a finger to it, without her vision, she lifted it to her lips and tasted it. Blood indeed.

The children were awake, she could hear their footsteps above and her love for them and them alone, made her drag herself as far as she could out of sight. She took cover in the hall closet and lay in the back behind the coats. She closed the door, just as Uncle Harry came in the front door with his hands full of groceries. If he noticed anything out of the ordinary, he made no mention of it to George, who came down the stairs to greet him. Mary listened to their muffled voices in terror of the embarrassment of being discovered in her current state. "Out for the evening Harry?" George began, "Yes, spent the night at the tavern and fell asleep at the poker table..." Harry replied with a hearty laugh.

George and Harry spoke in the front foyer, and then moved to the parlor. From there they walked down the hall past the closet door and into the kitchen. Only one set of footsteps came down the hall, and up the stairs. Soon and all at once, all three children ran down with heavy steps behind them down the stairs and out the front door. Footsteps walked down the hall from the kitchen to the front door that was slammed shut and locked. And then there was nothing but silence.

Penny was dead and buried, as was Mary's father, Grandpa Joe. Her son Michael and her Aunt Millicent lay in the same cemetery a few headstones away. John was most likely working, and God Himself was the only one who knew where Wendy was, and He was already at that very moment looking for her. There was no one home or anywhere else in the world that could valiantly defend the Queen. Surely she would wave the white flag and surrender, and Mary would, if she could raise her arm -- or better yet, remove it from her side that was now totally numb with pain.

She remained in the closet when the maid arrived and gave a startled, "Oh goodness! Jesus, Mary and Joseph what happened here?" Taking notice of the mess Mary had left on the living room floor. Mary listened, as there was nothing else left to do, as the maid rolled up the rug and dragged it down the hall into the kitchen where she did something to clean the fluids from it, while praying to the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the Saints in heaven for Mrs. Darling. The rug made its way with the maid back to the parlor and there she spent the rest of the morning cleaning, scrubbing and praying. Mary remained in seclusion, in the darkness and dust, scrunched up in a mass of bruises all afternoon and into the evening.

The Darling family came home sometime later; the children were already asleep as she overheard Harry telling his brother, "Never thought they would wear out today." Mary counted the footsteps coming in, three heavy pairs of feet, George, Harry and John, she hoped. Two sets walked up the stairs, one set paced around the house. Odd it was that no one called out for her whereabouts, unless they already knew where she was. Two sets of feet came down, and all entered into the kitchen and began to converse back and forth. The kitchen was just far enough away that, from the closet, Mary could not make out the specifics. Randomly when one would speak over the others and she would pick something up that made no sense to her. "In the...already...who knows...for long...without...far..."

Soon the will to stay awake wavered under the pressure of exhaustion, and Mary closed her eyes. She was jolted awake when something was slammed against the closet door. Whatever it was, it was large and crashed to the floor. Children's voices were heard explaining whatever it was they had done while away, and the scampering of little feet into the kitchen by order of George's voice came next with a strange clomps of small paws.

"A puppy," Mary managed in her mind, unspoken. Pitter-patter of tiny toes without the noise of paws but a chirping bark made their way past her in the hall and the soles of shoes followed after them. Two sets, Mary counted to herself. Out the front door into the sunshine that poured in under the door jam to her confinement. A broom swept the hardwood floor, and then a dustpan was used to gather the remnants of the broken item up. The steps to the kitchen trash and back to the door, made Mary nervous so she backed up as best she could and pulled all the coats hanging around her in front to shield her. The door opened and George, unmindful of his wife's hiding place, brushed the broom quickly in and out, gathering the dust and glass that had fallen inside to the dustpan outside in the hall. He bent down and gathered it up and then quickly glanced in though the coats. He grinned; pleased with himself that he tidied up a disarray such as this, and shut the door on her in her misery.

"He smiled," Mary whispered to herself, seeing his lack of concern for her condition in his face.

In truth, George was very proud of the way he handled the situation. Giving his wife free rein of her own life caused much more trouble than it was worth, and now she knew what would no longer be tolerated in his house. Harry was sick with worry over Mary's unknown whereabouts, while George was thrilled to be free of her for a few days.

Constantly, Harry would pester his brother, "Why are you not looking for her, George?" George scoffed his brother, actually alarming Harry enough to back away and flee from the house to search for Mary himself with, "Because I can't thrash her in a public place for running away, I will have to do it in my castle. And you best believe I'm going to give her a few good smacks for the mess she left in my parlor."

Mary knew without him having to reiterate vocally, and so now he was different and forever changed to her. No longer would he be the man she loved and adored, and could forgive endlessly and without measure. George was someone to be feared and apprehensive about. In her closet hideaway, Mary began to review Aunt Millicent's lessons from her youth in her head.

_"Always to be a proper lady and only speak when spoken to. Do not ramble on; you must learn to answer questions simply and with as few words as possible... Never give your opinion on anything, even if the matter concerns you and only you, even if it is requested. Just agree with your husband and let him decide for you. He may be a wrong as a man can be, but never question him ... Children are to be seen and not heard. With that being said, a proper woman of polite society is not only speechless but unseen as well. You must blend into the room like a piece of furniture, for in your husband's house that is what you are ... Don't laugh, only offer a pleasant smile, and a silent one at that ... Mary Elizabeth, once you marry a rich man, the only life you have will be the one he gives you. You must never ask him for anything, if he feels you deserve something he will give it to you. If you are a good, loyal and dutiful wife, he will give you anything you want anyway ... I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, dear, but at times it will only be your heart beating inside your chest that reminds you that you are in fact still alive."_

George returned to the kitchen, the chair scraping as it was pulled from the table was the only thing heard for quite some time. Mary believed it was still unsafe to move, but she could not hold her urine any longer, so she yanked one of her coats down peed on it, and then discarded it at her feet. The teakettle singing on the stove was the next sound and George rummaging through the cabinets came after that. George couldn't find where Mary, "hid the rotten sugar bowl, lousy thief probably stole it when she left!" So Mary braced herself in her solitude for another round of kicking and punching.

Silence fell once more, and Mary closed her eyes, or were they already closed, she couldn't tell. The blood that leaked from her mouth had stopped, but not the flow from her ear or her womanhood as she discovered when she checked what has soaking her dress from underneath. Something was definitely damaged inside of her body for the simple act of shifting to attempt a more comforting position made her bite down on her tongue to keep from screaming. And so the bleeding in her mouth began again.

The pangs of hunger and thirst, not to mention the medical care she was in desperate need of, stopped time for her. Soon she could not keep a conscious thought of anything, and her ability to count footsteps and differentiate between voices ceased. The puppy George purchased for his children kept his paws scraping on the door of the closet she held herself in constantly. "GET AWAY FROM THERE, PATCHES!" the children would continually call and drag him back to where they were, no one even paying any mind to Mary within.

Not that it mattered; she could not hear them now anyway. One voice she would swear on whatever life she had left that played out constantly in her mind was that of Wendy. But not from the other side of the door, off in the distance, calling out to her from wherever she was, as if her mother was lost and she was the only one dispatched to look for her.

Something thumped against the door or maybe it was the wall and continued to thump, something was trying to break into the sanctuary Mary had there. Then it stopped, someone on the other side, a man was speaking. But not George, a stronger force in the universe and he was surely talking to her, for he addressed her with a correct title, "Madam, there is almost no time left for you, please go back now..."

It was her only words said to be heard; "There is no place in this world for me to go."

"Something smells very foul in here, Meredith, maybe you should take out the trash."

"I just took out the trash, I'm telling you they must have rats or something in the basement. You know one of them scampers up through the walls and gets stuck. Then it dies and there is that odor until it rots away."

"Well, Meredith, have they heard anything more about Mrs. Darling?"

"No, I haven't seen hide or hair of her, and she's always home. I asked Mr. Darling and he made up some harebrained story that she was visiting a relative or some such nonsense. He even got those children a silly little pup to make up for her being gone. You ask me she isn't coming back."

"So what are you saying? She just left her husband and her children and ran away. I find that hard to believe."

"You ask me, she probably didn't run very far. I cleaned that rug in the parlor. Seems to me she took quite a beating. I wouldn't be surprised if that body they found in that alley downtown turns out to be her."

"Mr. Darling beating his wife, HA! And to death at that! I'd have to see it to believe it."

The maid and her friend left after giving the house its normal once over, although it took a little longer than normal. Apparently George had left direction to clean his bedroom in Mrs. Darling absence. Mary gathered her strength and her courage and pulled herself up. When the closet stopped moving around her, and her vision cleared enough to stop seeing everything doubled, she opened the closet door. She limped, as her leg was either injured from her violent fall or numb from lying upon it for the day or so in the confinement. She slowly made her way up the stairs to the washroom and ran herself a hot bath. Disrobing in front of the mirror, she saw all that her husband, the devil in the flesh, had done to her.

For lack of a better description, it appeared her entire face was broken. Mary's lips were split, her perfectly full mocking mouth now ruined. Her eyes were no longer swollen shut, and very large dark bruises were apparent, as well as the red that seemed to remain within the white of her right eye. The bruises did not end at her eyes, they continued down to her cheeks and stretched further in horrid steaks to the bottom round of her chin to her neck and shoulders. Mary was also correct in her assumption that her insides were harmed, although without surgery to investigate the precise cause of her bleeding, she couldn't tell what harm had been done.

"Best you stay off your feet as much as possible until the bleeding stops completely, most things like that mend on their own," Harry told her when he found her crying in her room after returning from an afternoon walk with the new family pet.

"The children named him Patches." Harry smiled lifting the dog to give Mary better sight of him. He was a small collie with black and white fur all jumbled up together. "They love him so already, but have missed you." His words had no effect on Mary as she dressed and ignored the tiny animal that jumped and down in her room wanting to play.

Mary knew better now than to stay off her feet or play with the children's new puppy, she knew what George expected from his wife, and she would now be forced, after all their years together to, not only give it to him unquestioned, but give in to him as well. "You remind me of my own mother when my father used to do that to her. I never thought I would ever see another women in this way, not at the hands of my baby brother," Harry told her as he helped her dress and ready herself for the children's reaction. "Tell them you walked into a door or fell down the attic stairs, they will believe it if it comes from you, we always believed our mother and until we knew better. Well, it's just best they think it that way."

Mary made her own way into the kitchen and with great hardship began to cook supper. "Mary, please try not to be defiant with George, if he's anything like his father was, he will strike you again. I will do what I can to help, Mary, I promise." That was God talking, but using the body of Harry to get his point across, which was received with a nod and dismal frown of acceptance from Mary. Patches followed Mary into the kitchen, and then around for the rest of day, tagging on alongside of her wherever she went, even when the children returned home and wanted to give him the attention he was in missing from their mommy.

"To think all that time she was in the closet, and you said you checked in there when the children broke the vase," Harry said, scratching his head as both he and George quietly sat in the parlor after dinner. Mary was slowly cleaning the plates away while the children played in the nursery. "Must have looked right past her then, probably huddled up hiding like a child fleeing from a spanking. Mother was never that inventive. She always wanted father to see what he had done to her. Mary was so embarrassed, I felt so sorry for her...She looks really bad, and she can't even stand. I had to help her. You really should let her take some rest already. A woman in her condition--"

That was all Harry could manage before his brother interrupted flipping his paper open, "A woman in her condition deserves to be in her condition and just suffer."

"George, look at her. It hurts to even lift her arm any higher then her waist. She is your wife, George, look at her." Harry's words did not affect George the way he had wanted or anticipated. Instead, his brother glanced back to his crushed wife, who worked in the kitchen, and demanded she serve him and Harry tea "right now, for I am tired of waiting!"

George would not save Mary, so Harry did. He went into the kitchen and helped Mary make the tea and served George himself, purposely spitting in the teacup as he walked back to the parlor.

The first time George laid eyes on his wife that afternoon when he returned from running his errands he gave no outward reaction of shock or sadness at her appearance. In fact, he shook his head, curling his lip, displeased she had returned so soon. He would have kept his word and punched her right in the mouth had Harry not intervened on her behalf. "Alright, George, she spoiled the rug, so take it out of her allowance."

Not only did George take it out of her allowance, he went and purchased a new rug for the parlor, which Mary was forbidden to walk upon. George left for the emporium, and Harry helped Mary complete the chores that her husband, Satan himself, had written out for her. "If they are not completed by the time I return, Mary, my hand will not be the only thing I use to discipline you with." To make sure his point was clearly received, George showed Mary how easy it was to free his belt from his waist, quickly whipping the back of the chair for an unnecessary effect that made her shiver to the bone.

Mary was broken in more than body, but in spirit as well, and Lucifer himself knew that. Mary was never again to be the same woman George married, now she would be a copy of her mother, more than her husband's who, even after years of torture from Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth, still had a tenacious attitude of insolence. Grandpa Joe predicted and now it had come to pass, all the happiness, joy, life and love she felt within her would forever be replaced with fear and absolute obedience and the evil that George always held within in his heart pushed out the good, making him a carbon copy of his father. Thus, the worst injury Mary sustained was to her heart, and no medicine or doctor could repair it or make better. Mary was terrified of her George, a man she had spent the better part of her life loving.

"You finally succeeded, George, Mary is in her place and mother would be so proud. That alone would surely make you her favorite," Harry sneered as Mary, without the clearest mind due to her injuries, sliced her hand on a broken glass in the sink. Harry mended her wounds as she sat at the kitchen table, whimpering over the sting of alcohol he used to sterilize the cut.

"Are you crying, Mary?" George called out. Both Harry and Mary raised their heads hopeful he had come to his senses, only to lower them again when he shouted, "Shut up, woman! All that whining is giving me a headache!"

Mary assumed he would want her to sleep in another room of the house away from him, but he was quite adamant that she always sleep in bed with him. "I had better not find you absent from my side if I awake in the middle of the night, Mary. You will go to bed when I tell you and you will rise when I tell you." His presence beside her as she rested in bed made it impossible for her to relax, and most nights she lay there unmoving, wide awake on her back, with her hands folded over her chest as if already in her coffin. The one night he demanded she service him was worse.

_"Take off your nightgown before I rip it off of your body, and spread your legs ... roll over ... no, you stupid twit, the other way! ... you like it like this, don't you ... don't nod your head at me, tell me ... shut up, did I tell you to speak ... now raise your leg ... NO ... the other leg ... God help me, you are the worst lay ... get on your back ... come on, come on ... faster ... now suck me off."_

Time passed slowly and Satan's victory was surely to be one of his finest when fully attained. Mary took to vomiting uncontrollably when George was due home from being out for the day. She never asked him where he was going or what he had planned, only accepting his, "I'm going out and will be back later," as explanation. The one time she did ask, he raised his hand, but did not strike her, only warning, "Never ask me ANYTHING ever again Mary, or you will receive a worse beating than you can imagine possible!"

The grown ups of the house maintained the façade that Mary herself wove, that she fell down the attic stairs after tripping on a pair of shoes. The Darling Triplets thought that their mama was incapable of lying, so they believed her that account as the truth, and questioned her no further. Especially after their father concurred her story with, "That is why we must always put away our shoes where they belong when not being worn."

George made not even a halfhearted apology to his wife. Instead while she gazed up to their bedroom ceiling, he vowed on his life and stacks of Bibles and anything else in the world that was sacred and holy that Mary would only find herself again in this condition if she disobeyed him or was deceitful. He finished by ordering his wife to forgive him with no if, ands, or buts. Mary nodded, and prayed silently that he would leave and give her relief of his company. But all for naught, he just sat and repeated the plain truth that he was not that sorry, nor did he really feel any guilt over his actions for as he put it "you asked for it." Those words fell on deaf ears, as Mary had already transformed herself into a rotted corpse buried beneath the ground.

The devil, or George if you prefer, had rules for everything, and each ended with the same admonition: "Break my rules, Mary, and I will break you."

From the moment she rose in the morning until well after night fell, while Satan ruled the roost, Mary had not one shred of mercy cast upon her. It was as if Lucifer had a personal score with her he wanted settled. Therefore, his punishment to a loving wife and devoted mother, who raised not only her own children, but her children's children, not to mention loved countless others unconditionally, was relentless. And always she lived in fear that the monster her husband now was, would not to be pushed into rage by just her own actions, but the actions of others.

Mary's normal disposition around the children never returned, not even when she was alone with them in the nursery. She was different, no more endless hugs and kisses, no more rolling around on the ground and laughing and carrying on like she once had. The moment she heard George call for her, she abandoned them without reason and went running toward the sound of his voice. They noticed the change in her and it bothered them tremendously. God saw the change in her with regard to her own children, and He got down off his thrown and began pacing the halls of heaven. The devil seeing this, laughed all the more.

Following their mother's lead, thinking maybe there was something lurking about the house that needed to be feared, the children too fell silent. "Uncle Harry is always telling us, children should be seen and not heard, and so that is what we must do. He said we must do it for mother and we shall." They only played in the nursery and nowhere throughout the rest of the house would children giggling and artless play be heard. They dressed as they were told and went to school where they listened and did their school work. Homework was done in silence at the kitchen table, and then and only then were they excused to their fantasy worlds of happier times and fun.

All the children constantly asked their mother if their was a boogie monster of some kind that had invaded the basement and took up residence there, but she only quieted them before bed, giving them no reassurances because she herself was unsure. It was Uncle Harry who reaffirmed and gave the promise of safety more solemn than he had before in his life with, "Not one soul in this entire world will ever harm any children living in this house. I'd see them dead first." He said it to the children as they were tucked into bed in the nursery, but it was meant for another's ears that listened by the door, Lucifer.

Even poor Patches was affected, he would lay in his bed in the nursery when the children were away, and never venture any further into the house than Jane's room. The children were forced to carry the terrified pooch from the house to walk him. If anyone in the outside world looking into the once happy Darling home needed any further proof that the devil had moved in after killing George, it came when Patches gathered enough courage to bark in a loud tone at the family's invader. Always a loyal and valiant defender of the children and the mommy who fed and washed him, the only person the dog gave hostile voice to was George. He would growl, snarl and at times be as so bold to snap with his mouth full of sharp teeth at George if he came too close to one of his wards or raised his voice in anger to Mary.

In a short matter of time, that too was resolved, for John took Patches in with him to the flat after George threatened to drown the dog. At the very least, it gave the children an excuse to weekly leave the house, relieving the constant pressures they felt at home. At one time or another, while Satan sat where George once had at the head of the table, each one of the Darling Triplets took cover under their bed, fleeing from a spanking after being bad. "That's silly, I would never spank you. Whatever gave you that idea?" George would tell them as he helped them out of their hiding spot under Uncle Harry's watchful eye. Call it a child's intuition; they still were scared of the boogie monster.

There is only one good thing about the devil, when having the most fun wreaking havoc and bringing hardships, he has an awful habit of getting lazy and not covering all his bases. He always has a unquenchable desire for greatness, not to mention, the devil is quite greedy and always wants all instead of simply settling for some, which, in George's case, would have given him a never-ending reign over the Darling household. But alas, he wanted more, and was growing eager to see Mary a broken bloody and maybe even dead mess on the parlor rug which George specifically told her she was not to set foot on. So, being wicked, the Devil made his first mistake. God was watching, and at the moment the universal rule of free will was broken, He, almighty in his power, stepped forward in a most obvious manner.

George, or Satan, sat on his favorite chair in the parlor, his brother Harry sitting across from him on the sofa. Mary was in the kitchen scrubbing the floor, because as George had just told her, "You will not sleep again or eat until it shines, Mary!" George watched his wife and then his brother. Harry gazed at his sister-in-law on her hands and knees scouring the tiles so hard that her knuckles were bleeding, with the saddest and most distraught expression of grief. George remembered the sigh of disappointment his brother gave the day he was lucky enough to marry Mary, and concocted a rather ingenious plan to conquer all the goodness left inside the once happy home.

Harry paid no mind to George, he only shook his head, "I'm going to bed..." he mumbled, and went up the stairs.

Unfair play indeed, God waited with bated breath on the edge of His seat, wanting to jump down from heaven to earth to save the day Himself. George entered the kitchen with his hands on his hips, and demanded his wife go to the bathroom and bathe her body this very instant. She did as she was told, and dressed in a silk nightgown her husband had laid out for her, complete with a fancy French perfume he sprayed on her himself. With her pretty as a picture, complete with curled hair and plenty of make up to hide the last of the bruises that had not yet faded from her face, George gave a simple, stern command. "Go to my brother's room and service him."

Mary waited for God to save her, she pleaded in her mind over and over again for salvation only to be on the receiving end of a brutal grasp of the arm from George who threw her out of their bedroom into the hall. "You will lay down for my brother, Mary, this very instant!" For the first time since Satan moved in, God smiled.


	47. Chapter 47 Hell on Earth

_Author's note: The chapter will guide you out of the darkness into the shadows. There is light, trust me, eventually you will see it – please bear with me through these next few chapters._

My Darling Love

Chapter 47 – Hell on Earth

"_I was a queen, and you took away my crown; a wife and you killed my husband; a mother and you deprived me of my children._

_My blood alone remains; take it, but do not make me suffer long."_

_-Marie Antoinette_

There are many universal rules where heaven and hell are concerned, and the most important is free will. Free will is an odd thing to explain, everyone who lives on earth has the freedom to make their own personal choices bearing on the good and bad in their heart. In order to win the game, the prize being either heaven or hell, whichever is preferred, a soul's destination is dependant on the choices it makes.

George Darling had evil in his heart which he received from his parents, but not even close to the amount required to truly think about willfully giving his one and only true love away in such a foul and reproachable manner. Let alone do it.

Up until this very moment, the devil had pushed and pulled and danced him about with all the wickedness George was capable of. Therefore, the devil didn't break any rules. But, in a gluttonous quest to see Mary completely destroyed, the devil pushed George completely out of bounds in an act of unfair play. Not covering all his bases, the devil placed a greater evil in George's heart. simply more than it could actually hold. And being lazy, the devil never did any research, for if he had, he would have known all of George's brothers before him preferred the evil, so they left little of it for George to keep for himself. Truth be told, after Peter was born, there wasn't that much evil left for any of the other Darling sons.

Thus stomping out the good, which there had always been far more of in George, was a "no-no." So God did what he needed to do to correct the situation, He put George to sleep. And since God never sleeps, and the devil does, Satan inadvertently missed what was to happen next. And God was thankful, for he was just about to divulge a great secret that no other except Himself was aware of. Something on the warmer, out of sight, and obviously out of mind as far as Lucifer was concerned, was slowly simmering. Hiding safely in plain sight, it would eventually boil over at a much later date, hopefully uninterrupted.

Mary slowly crept up the stairs to Harry's room and tapped on the landing to make him aware of her presence. He was already deep in his slumber and took no notice when Mary disrobed and climbed into bed beside him. She moved over him enough to place her mouth on his and engaged him in a comforting kiss. Harry kissed back passionately, knowing in his heart it was Mary naked above him.

George and Harry were almost twins, fraternally, and they had similar appearances, but not identical. He was only just ten months older then George; therefore in age they were one in the same. Harry did not wear glasses, although he was just as tall as George but weighed less and it was noticeable. Not as handsome in the face, his eyes were hazel, but his lips and hands the same. They kissed deeper and soon Mary found herself below him, she unconsciously unbuttoned his pajama top while he moved the pajama bottoms down and off.

It was not as unpleasant or distressing as Mary had imagined when George first gave his instruction. She knew Harry, although engaged to another lady, had delighted in many women countless in number. But tonight, for the first time, the thought of others before her was not troublesome. As a matter of fact, Mary thought it rather lovely. Harry would never treat her like a hole in the mattress; he treated her like a lover.

She held him tightly, and showered his neck with kisses, touching his body all over with her hands. Harry was just as kind and gentle to her as George had once been. He reciprocated the affections, nibbling on her ear and running his fingertips over her exposed breasts and sensitive skin. He shifted into the position to unlock her, and Mary caught sight of his erect key, giving the first outward sign that this was something she was doing of her own free will and sound mind. She moaned in anticipation.

Harry eased the tip of his member against her womanhood, and Mary bit the lip Harry wished to kiss when he entered her. He lifted his head and gazed into her beautiful eyes, "George is making you do this, Mary?" Mary nodded her head and closed her eyes. "Do you want to do this with me?"

Mary opened her eyes and offered a small smile to release something she held inside of her, she afraid herself to admit. "Yes ... but ..." Mary confessed leaning her head into his shoulder.

"But not because George told you to. You are just as beautiful today as the first moment we met when you were seventeen. Do you remember?" Harry admitted nudging Mary with his head. Mary remembered and her expression turned outward into a smile.

"I'm sorry my Aunt Millicent would not allow you to court me, Harold, most unfortunate for the both of us." He nodded his head in agreement and moved completely off of his sister-in-law, dressing again in his pajamas.

He handed Mary her nightgown and looked away as she slipped it back on her body. With both completely dressed, Harry and Mary stood facing one another. "Don't you want to make love to me, Harry?" Harry inhaled deeply and exhaled the same without answering although he eyes did tell her all she would ever need to know on that matter.

"What should I tell George?" Mary asked.

"Nothing, he told you not to speak unless spoken to, so say nothing unless he asks. He won't, I'm sure when he wakes up in the morning, the very thought of you lying down for me at his request will shake the devil out of him finally."

That night the evil George got bored with his game, and allowed the good one back in -- at least that's the devil's excuse. Actually, it would be more correct to say the good miraculously awoke the next morning, as did George. Uncle Harry was right, the thought that he told Mary to service his brother shook the devil out of him. Well, not really, God kicked the devil out the moment George grabbed his wife by the arm and gave her away to another.

In a few short minutes of being back in his body, George got the shock of his life to find his own wife of many years asleep dressed like a prostitute outside their bedroom door which God had bolted to assure George would be the one to find her.

He did, and carried her back to bed. Harry came down the attic stairs fixing his tie and shook his head to George who was gazing out his bedroom door confused over the previous night's events cloudy in his mind. Harry gave him the clarification necessary, "Sorry I couldn't screw your wife, George, but I had at my barmaid a few times earlier in the evening. Tell me next time you plan to do me the honor, that way I can at very least bathe the last whore off of me before I screw another. Thank you for offering though, it makes me feel very special that you think me your favorite," he finished drolly.

With that sentiment, George regained his old self and immeasurable remorse and unforgivable disdain filled him. That sadness, uncertainty, shame, desire to love and be loved like he once had been by his Mary, and an odd fear mixed with a hatred of himself left not even the tiniest space in heart for evil to dwell. Locked out of its hiding place, with nowhere else to go, the devil fled, with God looking down, laughing heartily.

So as the devil slept, Mary left Harry's room and returned to her bed beside George. She was very careful not to wake him, and took her spot, as assigned by the evil George, and closed her eyes expecting nothing more than to listen the ticking clock until dawn. Surprisingly, she had no trouble drifting off into her night's deserved rest. The powers that be knew there were to be a multitude of olive branches Mary would receive in the morning from her George, who was already back in his body asleep. But frankly, God didn't want to wait until morning. Thus, Mary heard a voice in her dreams, not George, but the man who spoke through the back wall the days she hid inside the closet for safety. She did not see him that day although she wished she could.

And so, in her dreams, only a month and no more after the attack, in her bed, next to her husband while praying to God, even in her sleep for a savior to free her, her wish was granted. She again heard his voice calling to her but she was too far away to see him. She asked for direction and he gave it, "Go to the hall closet, Madam. It will be so lovely to see you again." It was to be the only one of the Evil George's rules she broke, but Mary slid out of bed knowing the consequences when assured, "The king will not awake until dawn, Madam, you have my word..."

"Is he trying to kill you, Madam?" A pirate Captain in full regalia complete with a hook for a right hand asked her, looking with pity over her bruised face, covered in the pancake makeup.

"Here you are in the sanctity of the closet, if it is escape you desire, Madam, I must inform you are going about it the wrong way."

Captain Hook smiled and leaned toward her, offering her his assistance to stand, but Mary preferred to sit. "All I want is to know Captain is, where Wendy is. I know she returned to you once, but is no longer with you now. I must tell you, not only was I not expecting to receive an answer, I would never think would feel me worthy enough to deliver it in person," Mary replied shaking off his arm.

"Is that really all you want? I think I heard you pleading for a savior." Captain Hook sent his head back and raised his brow. Mary gave no response, so he continued, "Seems the cowardly king had won an adverse victory, for the Queen hides in a closet away from the kingdom! And here I thought you would be locked away in a tower." He laughed at his own joke and then took a seat opposite of her. They rested side by side across from the other with only enough room to kept their legs folded up at the knees. There was no light inside where they were, but Captain Hook's presence seemed to dispatch a peculiar aura that filled the tiny space, enough to enable each to see the other's face clearly.

In all seriousness he began, "Why did your husband raise his hands to you, Madam?"

Mary shrugged her shoulders, knowing full well why he did. Captain Hook could spot a liar, being one himself at times, from twenty paces, so he raised his brow and narrowed his eyes. "I lied to him," she answered flatly.

"Only once? Seems a rather harsh punishment for a first time offense, Madam." Mary leaned toward him, smiling. He was a very handsome man she would not deny he was attractive to her, especially after her brother-in-law put her mind in a rather unladylike place. "I should consider this payment in full for all of my mistruths then."

Captain Hook nodded, extending his lower lip and chin as he did. "Where is the fair maiden Gwendolyn?" Mary asked, knowing her identity was truly her daughter Wendy.

"She left me." He was slightly annoyed at this reminder of her.

"Why?"

"Because I lied to her, Madam," he replied, smug and arrogant and lying.

"Oh really? Seems a harsh punishment for a first time offensive, unless you are a liar." Mary gave it back the same way it was given.

"I see where your daughter gets her feistiness from, Madam. But actually, she had interests that lay elsewhere. Away from me," he replied conceding the half-truth with a bow.

"So she cheated on you then? Fool you are to still want her."

Her insult did just that, insulted him so his response was not kind, "I never said I still wanted her, quite the contrary, she is not what I want, Madam. Anyway, I think more a fool if one remains with an adulterer and forgives. You see how well that turned out. But since you assume that's what I meant when I said she had interests elsewhere, then I must inform you that you are mistaken. She did not cheat on me, at least not in the way you are thinking."

"How so then?"

"Hard to put into words, let's just say, Madam, your precious little baby felt bored with proper life and lady-hood, and so she would venture to Neverland and play with the me, a pirate captain that intrigued her newly found cravings of womanhood. I was, after all, very happy to oblige. It all started so innocently, she went to Neverland in search of Peter Pan, but what she found was not what she expected. You see, Madam, I was back and I was ready, and I was willing and I was waiting. When she got bored with me, or rather, found something or someone better to do, she left."

He moved down into a leaning position on his side. Suddenly, there seemed to be more room in the closet, as if it had miraculously transformed to offer more room to its inhabitants. Captain Hook stretched out his legs and motioned for Mary to do the same. She did, but kept her upright position, draping her blanket over her exposed legs; so proper that it made the fearless Captain of the Jolly Roger chuckle.

"So Madam, Wendy returned, and Neverland was never the same. She came back looking for trouble and she found it, with me." As he finished his sentiment he spread his arms out to show just how much trouble she found with an over exaggerated smile.

"How romantic, I always wanted a pirate captain for a son-in-law."

"Feisty thou art, I must say, Madam, but naysay son-in-law, Mrs. Darling, for I never married your daughter. I did have my way with her, many, many times in fact." He shifted his hand behind his head, resting it there, and slid down onto the floor of the closet as if to take a snooze, peering his lowered eyelids to catch her response. Mary only shook her lowered head in an attempt to hide the smile that escaped it. Seeing this he ventured forward, "Marriage is something only done in the place where you dwell. Where I am from there are no such things as vows that bind souls until death parts them. More so, you can remain there an eternity, unless you are saved. There is a saying about Neverland I am quite fond of. Would you like to hear it?"

Mary nodded with an expression of interest, and Captain Hook valiantly proclaimed, "If the heart offends thee, dearest, cut it out. I advise you cut it out, Madam."

"Is that what you did, cut it out?"

Captain Hook stood suddenly and once again offered Mrs. Darling his arm, this time she took it and stood also. He bowed gallantly to her and answered, "No madam, that is what your daughter did."

"I thought the saying was if the eye offend thee, cut it out," Mary added as he placed his elegant embroidered hat upon his head.

"If you cut out your eyes, Madam, how ever will you see?"

"If you cut out your heart, Captain, how ever will you love?"

"Exactly, Madam, exactly." He bowed as he replied, and kissed her hand.

The time that took eternity to move forward for Mary the month the evil George was king, now moved the same for the good George. Everyday, as his darling love proceeded through the her life in silence with a solemn face, performing her duties of wife and mother with no emotion, let alone heart, George cried himself to sleep. His regal attitude of being the supreme ruler of the kingdom abated and left him a shell of a man.

"I don't know what you were expecting, George. The way you've been treating her, I'm surprised God hasn't struck you dead yet. All I can say is, if you want things the way they used to be, maybe you should just try to make it so. First, I would allow her to leave the house. She had not seen the outside in weeks..." Harry advised.

Shaking his head in denial, George attempted to explain away his actions, "I think I may have been possessed by the devil, dearest brother..."

Harry only shook his head and gave his normal unmoved retort of "The devil George? Really, what rubbish..."

Since the time she realized her true place in his house, Mary did not look at George unless he addressed her, and only gave simple answers overflowing full of the respect and obedience she thought he expected when he asked her a question. His own mother had kept her horrid disrespect toward his father, even though he beat her almost weekly. Additionally, from what George could remember, Mary's mother (who was also beaten by her husband) was a proper older woman, a statue of silence in appearance who sat in the parlor and read or did needlepoint, who spoke in a respectful tone to Grandpa Joe, but was still an active player in her own private life.

Mary was different, so great was her trepidation that she became a servant to George, and a loyal one at that. She worked on his command and followed his orders and declarations of her duties to perfection. The evil George had not allowed her to leave the house under any circumstances demanding that she ask first and gave him a good reason. Now Mary never asked him anything. He had told her not to question him, and therefore, she was trapped in the hell of his making with no way of escape. She had no time to herself unless she was in the washroom bathing. Out of fear that she was taking to long, and using too much water, she washed as fast as she could with the faucet still running, returning to their bed promptly at the time he told her she should get to sleep.

"Mary, dearest, where is my favorite sweater? I asked you to freshen it up, but it is still not hanging in my wardrobe?" The good George now returned would query matter-of-factly as she made the bed in their room. She would look at him when he spoke her name, and when he was evil expected her undivided attention when she responded, and so she did and replied, "I washed it and hung it over the chair at your desk in the parlor like you told me to." He hadn't told her to, he asked her nicely, but still that was the way she answered.

By the tone of her voice, George expected a "sir" or maybe even "your majesty" at the end of it, for Mary no longer called him 'George,' when addressing him, feeling it not her place to address him casually, even though he was her husband. Mary was now eternally submissive and compliant to him, with not a single note in her speech of sarcasm or annoyance for his forgetfulness at his own request. And this was the way everything transpired between them.

So, a week before Christmas, after a few months of being back in his body, the good George handed his wife another of his many meager olive branches already extended and a wad of cash to buy "whatever you like for the children, from Santa of course, my sweet." Mary slowly held out her hand and took the money from him, never letting her eyes meet his.

She was wary of his generosity and mindful of his direction. She stood at attention, but with her head lowered, waiting to be dismissed by her master, while George stared back in distraught awe of her expression and obedient stance before him. He leaned in to peck her cheek, as she had been unusually distant to both him and the children since their "quarrel," as he called it. Mary jerked up her hand to shield her face, wiser now to defend herself.

Uncle Harry sat in a chair at the kitchen table and watched the entire exchange with utter disbelief. Mary's eyes were wide and watching, like an animal eyeing its predator, as she lowered her hand and took a step forward as she had put distance between herself and George in another act of protection. Without a word of response, for there was nothing to question, Mary continued to stand there, awaiting permission to move from George. "Go get your coat, Sweetheart, and Harry will take you to the emporium. I made a list of what the children need and left it on the foyer table." She turned and exited with her husband and brother-in-law staring at her.

"Mary, my love," George began and she, addressed by her name, stopped immediately. "Dearest, you can buy whatever you like for them, just get them a few things off my list. But you know really what they want. Just refer to my list if you run out of ideas. I'm not as wise as you about toys and such, so get them what you think will bring them the most happiness on Christmas," George chuckled, as Mary stood glued to the hall floor, keeping her eyes forward. "Alright, Sweetheart, off you go." He awkwardly clapped and giggled at his own silliness, but his darling love offered nothing to him as she opened the hall closet and removed her coat, putting it on.

Harry patted George on the back and escorted Mary to the emporium as he himself suggested. "Let me take her to the store, George, that way she will at least have some freedom away from you for the day. Maybe she will even magically transform back to your old Mary."

Mary purchased every single item on George's list for the children, and when Harry reminded poor Mary to "buy whatever you like, Mary, for the children, they should at least receive one toy from their mother, it's alright, George won't be angry," Mary bought each of the children a mechanical tin toy bank, with funny little moving parts. Joseph's was a giant frog that with the flick of a lever on its back would open his mouth and put forth its tongue swallowing whole the coin that was placed there, replacing the real frog George found in the bathtub that had been released back into the wild. Edmund's was a dog that, with a penny fitted in its mouth, would jump up through a hoop and into a barrel to deposit the wealth it was entrusted with, to replace Patches who, once in the care of John, ran away. A more delicate and cute bank was chosen for Jane, more for amusement than savings, hers was a clown that sat upon a throne. Place a coin in his silly hat and, with a flick of the lever, he too would stand on his head to hide away the treasure.

"George will like these, it will teach the children to save their allowance as opposed to spending it," Harry congratulated his sister-in-law on her wise purchase.

Mary had hoped there would be enough money left over to purchase herself a new dress for the holiday, but with the banks for the children, she actually came up short of funds. "George would be angry if I bought myself a new dress without asking first, so it's best I don't have enough money."

Harry covered the extra expense, and Mary fretted over the few cents George would have to reimburse his brother out of pocket. "I'm afraid that George will be angry with me for spending too much. Maybe I should return the banks and buy something else for the children," Mary suggested softly, as Harry paid the difference.

"I wouldn't be concerned, Mary, it's only a few pennies, anyway if it bothers you that much, maybe you should return something off of George's list."

Mary shook her head vehemently; she wouldn't dare disobey George and not bring home something he specifically told her to. "Really, Mary, it is only a few pennies, I won't even ask George for it."

But Mary couldn't have that either, "I'm afraid George will be angry when he balances the receipts and finds money missing. I don't want him to think I've been stealing money from him."

Harry stared at his sister-in-law, watching her neatly fold all of the proofs of payments after placing them in meticulous order as they moved from store to store, "George wouldn't think you a thief, Mary." Mary lowered her head and fell silent and still as the inanimate object she now was.

They returned home much later in the evening after Harry insisted on bringing Mary to a restaurant to eat dinner. "I'm afraid George will be angry that I was not home to make supper."

Harry eased her mind telling her, "George doesn't want us home until after the children are in bed, that way they will not see what Santa brought for them."

Mary gazed at the menu and the prices and worried over the expense, "I'm afraid George will be angry that I ate out. I don't have any money of my own, George took away my allowance." Harry hung his head. He wished it were his mother he was dining with, for she would have ordered the most expensive meal to avenge her husband's mistreatment. "My treat, Mary, and I won't even tell George how much it cost."

Still she ordered only a small bowl of soup, and declined the wine Harry had with his entrée. "I'm afraid George will be angry if I drink wine." Had she not been scared out of her being by her husband, their dinner conversation would have had them both laughing in delight.

But alas, Mary sipped her soup, only enough to wet the palate, not even coming close to filling her stomach, which could be heard growling for more nourishment across the table. An ill-timed joke Harry used to make her laugh, "You'd better finish your soup, Mary, or George will be angry," made Mary lick the bowl clean. In silence, she politely waited with her hands folded in her lap when she was finished, still and silent again.

Harry appraised the situation with his mouth full, and chewed his steak, watching Mary sit unmoving, only disproving she was not actually a petrified fossil by blinking. Yes, her eyes were strange to gaze upon; they constantly gave the impression that at any moment a single tear would be put forth to help alleviate all the pain she held within her.

There ride home was no better, "I'm afraid George will be angry that I was not home in time to put the children to bed."

By now, Harry was rather angry himself, not with Mary, but with his younger brother. "Mary, George told me not to have you home before the children went to bed and were asleep." Mary checked her watch and replied, "The children will not be asleep yet. Maybe we should pull off and wait. I'm afraid George will be angry if we arrive home and the children hear us."

George only had to beat Mary once to teach her a lesson of fear that she would be bound by for the rest of her life. Harry thought it odd that his mother had to be beaten over and over again, and still she was a rowdy and demanding as she ever was. It was pity that made Harry pull over and wait like Mary suggested. Away from George, Mary should have been able to relax, but instead she only worried more.

"I'm afraid George will be angry..." she repeated constantly over the shopping trip. Harry was thankful that Mary at least had a good part of her life over, that she had lived happily married, an independent woman, undisturbed by abuse before this, leaving only a year or so, if she were lucky, of this unrelenting stress, before God called her to her final repose. And so he interrupted her and held her hand in his. Their eyes met and Harry slowly, cautiously, gently brushed his lips against those of his sister-in-law. "Mary, George will not be angry tonight, I will see to it myself."

Mrs. Darling and Uncle Harry carried their purchases into the house and rested them down in the foyer hours later. They were greeted by the king of castle who held a broad grin of excitement from ear to ear, hands on hips, "Well, how did it go? Get everything for the children, Dearest?" Mary nodded and Harry pushed her forward into the embrace George had extended to her with a kiss for her cheek and an "I missed you today, Mary, my love."

Still holding her about the waist, he rambled on, "I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. I feel so foolish. I never gave you your allowance. I'm sure there are things you wanted to buy for yourself. You are months behind in receiving it. I was just balancing my ledger. You should remind me of such things, dearest love. I still hope you had a jolly time. Did you my darling?" Mary nodded into his shoulder and George, who could not help being just a little surprised by her not returning his hug, pulled her back to see her blank face. "Mary, my dearest darling love, hug me, tell me how you missed me today." Tears welled in her eyes as she did as she was told and embraced him as best as her arms could manage under duress, striving to obey. She repeated his command word for word adding. "I'm sorry I did not have my allowance to buy you a present for Christmas. I should have thought about how disappointed on Christmas Eve you will be with no gift to open. I hope I have not angered you and if I have, I'm sorry."

There was fear in her apology, but George didn't hear it. "Oh Mary, that is so sweet of you to think of me that way, but I don't want you to spend your allowance on me. That money is for you. All I want for Christmas this year is your love..." George said kindly, utterly flattered that his wife worried over him in such a way, finishing his words with a kiss to her cheek.

Harry tried to help his brother increase Mary's strained interactions with George by saying, "Now, Mary, you will have the funds to buy that pretty dress you were looking at in the shop on First Street ... the lavender one with the matching slippers that will flatter your figure."

George's face lit up with Harry's comment and he turned back to his wife, "Well then, dearest love, my sweet, I will just have to give you your allowance and take you shopping tomorrow."

"No, that is alright," Mary began, terrified at the thought, "the funds would be best left in your savings." His wife's thinking impressed George, especially when it came to the house books. But, the lack of sincerity in her words was not so obvious, at least not to this George, and, feeling his wife was finally back to her old self -- as Harry had theorized -- as a result of her day out shopping, squeezed her hard around the waist as her reward for being frugal. She cried out in pain, for her internal injuries were not yet healed. George did not let her go, with a quizzical and concerned look to Harry, he asked after her.

"I'm fine." Mary hid her face, holding her gaze to the wall behind him as she answered.

"Are you sure, Sweetheart?" was received with nod, and the "Harry and I will hide the presents from the children, now do you want me to help you to bed, dearest love?" was answered with a headshake and her quick ascension up the stairs to the washroom.

George stood at the bottom of the steps and watched her leave. He waited until she finished in the washroom and walked to their bedroom. She caught his look and turned away, walking faster. "I don't understand what's wrong with her," George said rhetorically.

Harry responded, "She's not our mother, George." Harry patted his shoulder and handed him her shopping receipts.

"You owe me two shillings, Mary asked me to kindly ask you for it, she didn't want you to think her a thief," Harry muttered, annoyed.

"I would never think Mary a thief," George reiterated and Harry gave a well-timed retort of, "Well, at one time or another you must have called her one."

George glanced over the proofs of payments, and took them to his desk to balance the totals; "She bought everything on my list except one toy for each of the children?" Harry sat on Grandpa Joe's favorite chair puffing on a pipe and nodded. George turned on his chair and looked to his brother for explanation, "Why would she do that? Shopping for the children at Christmas has to be one of her favorite things in the world. She looks forward to going every year. And every year when I make my list she tells me I have no idea what the children desire, and buys what she wants for them instead."

"Because you told her to buy the things on your list, George, and she was afraid the entire time that you would be angry if she didn't get every single solitary item you specifically wrote down."

"I said get some of the items from my list, not all."

Harry rose from the chair and retired his pipe to the ash tray rolling his eyes, "Well, without you there, George, to tell her what to buy and what not to buy, I guess she felt it best to just buy what you said the children needed so that you would not be angry with her."

"Why is she still afraid of me? It doesn't make sense. I only hit her like I did because she lied to me. She should have known better, her tricking me into having John when we were not ready; it was a very bad thing. We almost had to leave Wendy in the orphanage and to purposely bring another baby into the world on her choice alone without say from her husband, she deserved to get..." The good George knew she deserved to be on the receiving end of a harsh scolding but not on the receiving end of a hostile attack of rage he had given her. When he couldn't finish the sentiment, he offered another, "A woman should not deceive her husband in that way. And I trusted her, and she broke my trust."

"First of all George, don't kid yourself. You did not smack your wife; you beat her within an inch of her life. Do you realize she could easily have died in that closet? Your children could have found her, George! You should think about that. And second, which is what really rustles my tail feathers, is you broke her trust in you before you even had an inkling of an idea about the way John was conceived, and Mary still protected and defended you to the death. Frankly I don't remember your body being battered in that way for your misdeeds against not only her but also your family and children. But I see your point; she broke your trust and her punishment is for you to abandon your duty to her. Yes, that sounds fair," Harry, retorted harshly, straightening the packages, preparing to hide them in the attic.

George spun about in his chair and stared at Harry hard at work. "I have never abandoned her, I'm here for her always."

Harry kept on with his task without looking to his brother, "You left her that night in the parlor to suffer alone. You knew what you did to her. You left her alone in the hall closet with no one to defend her or protect her or comfort her when that is what she needed most in the world. She called to you George that night, she begged for mercy that night and you ignored her. And then you gave her away."

Harry could feel George's glare and continued, "You had a good woman, George, a woman that would have flown against the gates of hell and defeated a legion of demons to save from you from Satan himself. And now, she thinks, after all these years, you're just the devil in disguise, a wolf in sheep's clothing, that's why she's fearful. I'll tell you this much, if mother and father were alive still, now you have their complete blessing in your marriage. Come to think of it, I think not only would you be your mother's favorite, but now your father's as well, for you are a far better man and a far more capable bully than he. You were patient, you took your time all these years, letting Mary live under the lie of a false security, all the time just training her, training her to trust you. Now you truly _are_ in control, and you never have to be bothered with recovery woes of woman like father was with our mother spending more time in bed recuperating than being his housemaid and whore. You'll never ever have to hit Mary again and if you had to pay her for her services as servant, you'd already be broke!"

"I am not like my father..." George replied proudly pretending to review the receipts, his mind elsewhere moving a mile a minute.

"No George, you are worse, much worse. Our father would have taken to the streets to find our mother if she ever went missing, especially after a beating. He would have taken her to a hospital and cared for her, even if it were only until she got better. Instead, you were furious when Mary returned to you. And it did not matter that she was slowly dying? No, the moment she had enough strength to stand, you made her into your slave. As I stand here in your castle I can tell you just what your father-in-law would think of this situation."

That got George's attention, and he approached his brother and touched his shoulder, turning him to see his face, hoping it would be Grandpa Joe speaking through Harry's hazel eyes. "He would tell you that no man has ever won in the game of chess by willfully conceding his Queen to the enemy."


	48. Chapter 48 The Sanctity of the Hall Clo...

My Darling Love

Chapter 48 – The Sanctity of the Hall Closet

_"After all these years, I see I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning. It is better to live outside the Garden with her, than inside it without her."_

_-Mark Twain_

Unlike the other times when the George of London returned, there was no galloping in to save Mary with a chariot of love and devotion. Instead, this time, the good George, lost in his own disillusionments of his manhood, hid behind the empty threats made by the Evil George. In his right mind, he could not fathom the rage that devoured his heart. He loved his wife, his children, his children's children and more importantly, his whole life, all of which, he still had, thanks to Mary Elizabeth. He had no explanation for his actions, well, none of which made sense to him or anyone else for that matter. Thus, he felt himself unworthy to save the day and decided it best be left up to someone else.

A cowardly king indeed, as his memory of the way it was supposed to be returned, sporadically, as he noticed the differences in his wife's routine, he made the tiniest changes, giving Mary more and more freedom as time went on, although to his continued dismay she never exercised them.

It would have been better to valiantly hand his wife an entire olive tree uprooted from the earth and beg for her forgiveness, that is what God in heaven looking down wanted. But alas, George was himself confused about what had truly occurred, and fearful a bold display of his sorrows would only make matters worse, as it had been a bold display of his malice that brought them to where they were now. Therefore, he only threw single solitary olives at Mary when the opportunities were presented.

"Mary, my love, you've been stuck in the house for weeks. Sweetheart, you can go out whenever you want, just please tell me where you are going." Now he only wanted to know; out of fear that her destination would give her an escape to another world, away from him. Mary was not allowed to speak to him unless he addressed her under Satan old rules, thus she never left the house.

Harry demanded George speak up and alter something, for his sister-in-law would either commit suicide by starving herself to death or drop dead quite naturally of exhaustion. "George, she doesn't eat, and when she does she vomits from the nervous knots in her stomach expelling the food. She has not slept in days, more likely weeks, because she finds no comfort in sleeping with the enemy. You are the man of the house, the king of your castle, DO SOMETHING!"

In all their years of marriage, George was still clueless regarding his wife's favorite food. But he did know her sleeping habits. As it had been their entire marriage, when George would take to snoring loudly, Mary would get up and sleep on the sofa in the parlor if need be. Not to mention the times when their marriage was not right, she would sleep away from him to find peace. So that was the change he made, "Mary, Sweetheart, you don't have to sleep in bed with me, if you prefer the sofa."

It sent a mixed message to his wife and it showed now in the hope and fear mingled on her face. Mary wanted to ask whether he meant he wanted her to reassure him, since sleeping in the bed with her husband, wrapped in his loving arms is where she preferred, or was he blatantly telling her to leave him to the bed alone? Or maybe, just maybe, he was only testing her memory of the devil's rule. "You will go to bed when I tell you and you will rise when I tell you."

Harry pinched George's leg under the table and grimaced at his baby brother, indicating George was to provide clarification. The pain in his leg and the annoyed glance to Harry, who seemed to have replaced George as Mary's personal bodyguard, made him blurt angrily, "You have to sleep, Mary, so as soon as you are done with your work, you will go to bed. And if sleeping on the sofa instead of bed will ensure your slumber, then you are to sleep on the sofa or anywhere else in the house where you feel comfortable and can find rest, dearest love."

As a result, Mary's only time of solace came in the hall closet. After she hid there following the attack, she cleaned it and left only her one coat inside. And there, after the children were in bed and her duties as assigned by her husband were completed to his liking, alone in the dark with the door closing the rest of the world away Mary would sit and listen. Most mornings, George would find his wife asleep, still in the closet. She would be wrapped in a blanket, sitting in an upright position. George felt it best to leave her undisturbed so he would gently close the door. Thinking better of it once, he lifted her and carried her up the stairs to their room. A dagger with a shiny golden blade fell out from the blankets when he placed her upon the bed. Jewels adorned the handle, and George caught sight of the engraving. Unacquainted with its true meaning, but having his own ideas about it, he never bothered her there in that safe place again.

"Mary's to bed George," Harry muttered sarcastically as Mary, finished with her daily tasks as wife, mother and slave, hid herself away inside her sanctuary while he and George sat in the parlor reading the paper. "Give it to me, George, to squash the temptation to thrust it into your heart." George handed Harry the dagger, for he kept it himself, afraid his wife might think to use it. Harry turned to see the markings upon it,

_**If the Heart Offends Thee Dearest, Cut It Out.**_

"Has she asked for it back?" Harry asked, testing the sharpness of the blade.

"No, Mary never asks me for anything. She never says anything at all, not even my name. If our father was alive, he would tell me shake some sense into her, but I could never do that, it would only make it worse. It's not so much her silence that bothers me, as the look in her eyes when I see myself in them. Mary, my only love, thinks me a monster."

Harry flipped the page in his paper after laying aside the dagger on the end table beside him, "And rightfully so, George, I told you many times that, to her, you are a monster, a beast, Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, pick one. A light slap on the cheek would have done the trick, and it would have been easily rectified. But to lose your temper and your mind enough to punch and boot her in the stomach when she's already down, already in retreat, that is unforgivable." Harry cared very deeply for Mary, since the moment he met her when she was a fair young sprite of seventeen to the time of her encouragement and acceptance of him so much later. He laid aside the bottle, and even now would only indulge in a glass of wine with dinner on special occasions, all of this, just for her.

"Just out of curiosity, have you made love with her since you whored her out?"

George spit out his tea with his brother's words, and choked on his tongue trying to formulate a rebuttal. He was never good in confrontations when in his true self, and as he turned to see his brother Harry, his face betrayed him. So instead of railing against his baby brother, Harry said something else, cruel still, but not as nasty as he could have been. "No, George, I didn't. I never liked putting it in a woman that bore a child, let alone children, especially those belonging to my brother."

Harry flipped the paper straight and went back to reading but persisted with, "Well?" George nodded with humiliation that he had, "And?" Harry impatiently wanted the details.

George got up and removed his glasses, rubbing his face and reaffixing them on his nose. "I just want to be close to her again, like we once were. It seems that is the only way she will let me touch her." He strolled over to the front window and gazed out.

"Well George, do you have to force her? Does she just lie there and say nothing or does she cry the entire time? What?" Harry offered some help to lessen the look of distress on George's face.

Finally George answered, "I've always asked her first if she wants to, you know women get weary after a long day of housework, cooking and children. She used to answer me with a kiss that told me I didn't have to ask. Now she answers me by..."

Harry stared at the back of George's head the suspense what killing him, "What does she say?"

"She doesn't say anything. She just takes off her nightgown."

Harry was on the edge of his seat; he placed his paper and pipe down and walked up to his brother. "And?"

"I tell her what I want, you know, what position, and she does it without complaint or question. Once I even chose a way I know she doesn't care for because she told me the one time we tried it, it hurt her. I was hoping she would at least protest, and remind me how sore it made her. She only bit the pillow in preparation. I'm not a loathsome cretin so before I began I switched her to a position I knew she enjoyed. She still said nothing. I always tell her to tell me she loves me and she always forgets. When I remind her to tell me she loves me, she says she's sorry she forgot to, but still doesn't say it."

That was it, end of story.

Mary always apologized for her wrongs, all her life. Only now she ended every sentence with it, apologizing for some miniscule error that only a tyrant would think as an unforgivable mistake. "Yes George, I will make the roast goose for Christmas dinner and I'm sorry I haven't finished washing the dishes yet." Or worse yet, "No, George, the mail has not arrived yet and I am sorry that you are made to wait for it."

When something happened that was indeed her fault, her apology was followed by a detailed justification of her misjudgment. "I'm sorry I didn't purchase enough potatoes to make home fries for breakfast like you told me to, but I only had enough money to buy either the baking flour for the Christmas cookies or the correct amount of potatoes for dinner and breakfast. I thought the children would be terribly disappointed without cookies on Christmas Eve to leave for Santa, so I only got enough potatoes to make for supper. I'm sorry, George, that I didn't consider that you would be disappointed at breakfast. I should have asked you first. I'm sorry."

There his wife stood in the kitchen on the morning of Christmas Eve, her cooking interrupted with his casual observation that they were having eggs, bacon and toast, which was fine with him, instead of eggs, bacon and home fries for breakfast. George wanted desperately to comfort her; she looked scared out of her wits at his perceived incoming reprimand. He moved to her, wanting to hold her close and implore her to not be so afraid and anxious all the time. He wanted to tell her he loved her more than himself, and if given the chance, not only would he take back his hands from her body in rage, but cut his own heart out for offending her delicate soul. He would be her blessed protector and defender and she would never need to fear anyone else, least of all him, for the rest of her life. He stepped forward to her, and she literally did as he feared, and lost her wits, wetting herself.

Too late it was to hide from the children that came running down the stairs. Mary stood in a pool of urine that collected at her feet. Instinctively she grabbed a rag from the sink and began wiping the mess with the innocent babies gazing wide-eyed at their parents. George also dropped to his knees and with a cloth napkin began to soak up his wife's mess. "I'm sorry, I was trying to hold myself to get breakfast finished, I knew you would be angry if you were made to wait, please don't hit me, George," she cried as she worked quickly. George was speechless as he thought that this was a bed he should have set ablaze before lying in; and gagged on his own-knotted stomach.

"Children, go back to your rooms. I will bring up your breakfast in a few minutes," George instructed with his head down, trying to keep from vomiting.

"WE WANT MAMA!" Jane shouted.

Mary, trying to deflect what she saw as George's fury and disgust at her, responded, "Children, do as your father says right now, please."

Mary and George stood at the same time, and as George went to embrace her and offer her some sort of act of contrition, he saw she had regained her obedient and terrified stance of submission before him. He gently touched her cheek to raise her face, for he desperately missed looking into her eyes. Mary knowing his next move would be to give her a good whack for not having a big enough bladder, scrunched up her face with her eyes shut tightly to brace herself for the impact.

And now finally with this, George threw up.

It was at this moment that John came in, as his father began dry heaving, with Mary standing above him, urine soaked rag in her hand, crying like a baby. "Mother, you go on to your room, I'll stay with father and clean this all up," he said, stupefied by what he was seeing, and Mary turned on her heel and went directly into the hall closet. John watched her, confused by her destination, and helped George stand. "Why is mother in the hall closet? What is going on here?" he asked, as George washed his mouth out in the kitchen sink, still hacking and coughing.

John finished making the breakfast, and took it to the children. George bathed in the washroom and put on clean clothes. As the Darling Triplets were taken to visit a friend of John's, George gently tapped on the closet door in the hall and recommended Mary also tidy her appearance. He put his ear to the door and listened, when she did not respond, he opened it only a little and peered inside. Whoever it was that he assumed was Mary, pulled the door shut quickly and whispered a warning "If you wish to keep your right hand, I would leave well enough alone."

George fell upon the door and began to cry, "I'm sorry, Mary, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Have mercy on me, I am truly sorry. Please cut my heart out. Please. I beg of you, please cut my heart out, if I am deserving of it." A muffled voice -- dare we say muffled voices -- conversing back and forth could be heard from the inside. The door slowly creaked outward and Mary emerged. She took to the stairs and ran up into the washroom. After only a few moments she fled the bathroom to her bedroom and stayed there until the children returned home.

The children returned, and Mary descended the stairs and returned to the kitchen to cook dinner and bake cookies. The children played in the nursery with their Uncle John, as they called him, and Uncle Harry took a nap in the attic. Wanting some sort of normalcy to return to his castle, George brought his paper into the kitchen and sat at the table reading while Mary made her cookie dough and peeled potatoes.

"Mary, would you make me some tea please?" In no more than a minute a teacup with tea, just the way George preferred was placed in front of him. He stopped reading and looked up to watch his wife, she worked, nervously dropping things, continually stopping her duties with a need to think of what comes next in her task. Forgetful of the towel necessary when handling hot pans, she pulled a cookie sheet from the oven without one, burning her fingers.

George rose to aid her, insisting she run her hand under cold water, and then rest on the kitchen chair for a moment. He sat down across from her and stared at her. George instinctively began stuttering an apology for causing her to lose control of her bladder from fear of him. Mary had now changed into a statue and stared at the blisters forming on her fingers, nodding to him without hearing his words. He knew this, and checked his pocket watch for the time. It was already late in the afternoon, the goose was finished, and the dishes were prepared, with just the potatoes to be boiled and the cookies awaiting the oven, Mary's job for now was done. Angry with himself that even his slightest touch made her cringe and cower, George dismissed her to her room to rest and dress for supper. "See that Harry bandages your hand, dearest. I hope it is not painful and does not ruin this joyous evening for you." She nodded and ascended the stairs straight to her room.

Mary now closed the door and locked it behind her. She did not see the pirate captain lying in his holiday best dressed on her bed, "A very Happy Christmas Eve to you, Madam."

Mary whipped her body around, dumbstruck, surprised to find him in her room. "What are you doing in here, do you know how much trouble I will be in if he finds you here?!"

Hook smiled and said, through hearty laughter that Mary shushed frantically, "Gwendolyn used to say the same thing, but no one can see me except you, silly goose." As if to prove his words, Uncle Harry knocked on her door, and gained access to check on Mary's hand. Captain Hook removed his fancy coat and boots and stretched out with his hand and hook behind his head on Mary and George's bed. Mary watched him as he began singing a Christmas carol while unbuttoning his shirt to expose his broad tanned chest. He smiled amorously, winking to her and waving, as Harry turned toward the bed to see what ever it was that Mary was staring at.

His entire body was well toned and tanned, as Mary was already aware. He disrobed further until he was completely nude with the exception of the contraption that held the hook to his right arm and strolled behind her. Right in front of George's brother, Harry, Hook licked her neck.

It gave her goose bumps from head to toe, and that -- and only that -- Harry noticed. "Are you cold Mary, maybe you wrap yourself in a shawl, don't want you getting sick on the holiday."

Her shawl, which hung on her vanity chair, was now wrapped around Captain Hook's waist as he sat on her chair and rummaged through her vanity table. He had already attempted to comb his long curly locks with her brush, but discarded it when it got caught on the many knots he had within his hair. "Mary," Harry said to gain her attention from whatever it was she was staring at by her vanity, "your shawl, Mary, you are cold." She pointed to the vanity where it rested in an odd manner on her chair, and Harry rose and pulled it from the seat.

It gave him a lot more resistance than it should have, just lying on her chair and he actually fell over when Captain Hook stood and allowed it to be stripped from his body. Again he was nude, and he moved causally to her wardrobe and opened it. The wardrobe door creaked open and Harry stood and closed it only to have it open again when an annoyed Captain Hook swung it back so. "Dearest Madam, tell this imbecile to leave already," Captain Hook offered, as he began flipping through her hangers.

"Harry, I wish to take a nap, do you mind leaving me to it?" Harry shook his head, draping the shawl over her shoulders. Before departing, without ever seeing the pirate captain naked in her room, Harry leaned in and gently brushed his lips to Mary's, resting his head on her shoulder when their kiss was complete.

Mary closed her eyes and licked her lips to regain her composure. "Hm, interesting. I wonder what was that about, Madam?" Captain Hook turned round and gave her his full attention as Harry quietly closed the door.

Captain Hook was not the only other man she had seen completely nude and although they all, George, Harry and Captain Hook, had similar faces with the same features, that was where the resemblance ended. Hook turned to face her, giving her a better look at what she was curious about, and she stunned him into a chuckle when instead of blushing like she always did, she grinned in appreciation, changing the subject with, "Impressive posture for a pirate captain, especially in this light. You should stand around naked more often."

Mary placed her shawl back on her chair, feeling the room suddenly quite warm, and straightened everything Captain Hook had left in disarray. He, on the other hand went back to searching her closet, and then to George's wardrobe, still nude, jeering and snickering at all of the proper suits and ties that were neatly placed on hangers within. "Does your king really wear this stuff?" he asked, now looking at a sweater vest he pulled out and began to put on.

"Rather uncomfortable and itchy." He smirked, taking it off and flinging down on the ground without care. Next, he removed a bathrobe, George's favorite, and put it on. "That's better." He whispered as he strolled back to her bed and tapped lightly on her side for Mary to join him.

She picked up George's sweater and replaced it before lying down beside him, now glaring at him simply because he was still there. "I distinctly remember telling you to meet me only in the hall closet, and not in here. How did you get in here anyway?" Mary began.

"Your king's house has many doors, Madam, and you are not in the hall closet. You did ask for me, did you not?"

"I most certainly did no such thing. I spoke with you before, and you told me you could offer me no aid now." Mary rose and placed her hands on her hips. "You know I am old enough to be your mother."

That too made Captain Hook laugh and he corrected her jokingly with, "If you were old enough to be my mother, Madam, that would make you... well...dead, dearest."

Mary rolled her eyes at his sarcasms, and he continued, "You asked for me earlier in the closet and I told you I couldn't help you now, but I would see you later. This is later. You were thinking about me when you came up to have your hand mended and dress for your holiday supper, even if you did not ask for me by name, Madam. Or were you thinking about your brother-in-law? Well, no matter, and since I was bored and alone, I figured what harm would a little afternoon delight do?"

Mary was a woman nearing fifty, although her face and body could have put her a decade behind that number. Captain Hook was an adult, but had not aged even a second since the first time she laid eyes on him in her own dreams years earlier. She sat back down and touched his cheek gently, making him close his eyes and lift his face to her to give her a better position. "Why don't you age?"

He didn't answer her, only clutching her hand to bring her closer to him on the bed. He tried for a kiss, but she yanked herself back, "I told you, I am not the fair maiden Gwendolyn. I am a married woman who has raised three children and have three more still to bring up. And I don't play children's games, especially not with a pirate captain."

Captain Hook was outright weary of her constant repetition of things he already knew, "Must you always say the same thing every time we are together, Madam? I know who you are and who you are not. I know what you are and what you've done and what you still feel compelled to do. Can we just once forget the formalities and get on with it?"

Mary exhaled deeply and crossed her arms and raised her brow in annoyance.

Captain Hook pouted, like a baby who just had a tasty piece of candy taken from his hands. "Just one kiss, please?" He leaned toward her, and gazed flirtatiously into her eyes, the pleading was there when he brushed his lips to her hand and ran his nose from her shoulder up to her ear to catch her scent. "Pretty please," he whispered as he subtly moved alongside of her and eased her down on her back, unfolding her arms and placing them around him. Those blue eyes, so much like George's that they made her belly tingle as he began gently placing teasing kisses over her cheeks and chin. He maneuvered his head to lightly steal a kiss from her lips, but then pecked her nose instead. He was always very polite in his seduction when his intended partner was unwilling, rape was a harsh offense to woman of Mary's station, so he asked as he rolled his eyes towards to ceiling, "Pretty, pretty please. May I have just one kiss? It's Christmas Eve!" He looked at her, trying to seem harmless, and then smiled lovingly and awaited her response.

"It is never just one kiss where you are concerned," Mary responded, as he changed his expression to bashful making his intended lover giggle like a schoolgirl.

"Oh madam, you know me all to well." He leaned down to her and placed a very passionate kiss upon her lips. He finished before she did, when he pulled away and wiped his mouth with repulsion.

Mary opened her eyes quickly and copied the same motion by passing her sleeve over her mouth. "Get out," Mary said, as she rolled on her side away from him.

Hook smiled at the back of her head with a raised brow, and spooned behind her. "I was merely jesting, Madam, I mean you no slight, and it's all part of the game I like to play with you. It's only fair, you always play hard to get."

"I don't like your games, and I am hard to get." Mary moved to rise from the bed but Captain Hook had another idea. He yanked her down on her back and straddled himself on top of her kissing her harshly as she struggled underneath him. He kept on kissing her until her lips relaxed and finally welcomed his tongue that he smoothly slid in her mouth. Captain Hook loosened her shirt. With her blouse open, he grasped her breast in his hand and shifted his head down to taste her delicate skin.

Mary took her hand and placed her index finger under his chin and guided his eyes to hers. "Promise me that you will not hurt me, that you will do no harm to my body. I don't want to have to be afraid, not of you."

Captain Hook was surprised by her request, although even he could not understand why. Mary told him the same thing every time they were together in this way. Why would any living soul want to intentionally hurt such a kind and loving creature as this was totally beyond his understanding. He raised his brow and stared intently down at her. "Indeed, madam, I would never hurt you in any way, body or mind, and that is a promise I intend to keep well after you are no longer willing to accept my favor and my company."

He moved his lips back to her lips and moved his hand back to her body. She began reciprocating by nibbling his ears and neck and soon he was on his back with Mary licking down his chest to his exposed member. When her lips wrapped around his hardness sliding the warmth and softness of her mouth up and down he made her another promise, "And if your husband ever dares to put you in your place again, he will meet a most painful and merciless end, I swear that to you." Stilled in her movements, she gazed up to see his expression. He touched her face tenderly with his hand, "Oh yes madam, I can and will kill the king to rescue the queen."

It was a clear day outside without a cloud in sky and cold enough to snow. But it was not snow that gently pelted the windows. It was a soothing rain with one bolt of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder, as Mary moved on top of Captain Hook, shifting down onto his length in George's bed. She held her head up running her hands through her hair that she had released from its twist, not watching the pirate captain below her. This was fair; for he was not watching her either. His gaze was toward the window, and the rains that poured down harder each time she shifted upon him. She moaned her pleasure touching his lips with her fingers bringing him back to her world, and in return, he flipped her on her back and kept the rhythm into her body the way she liked best. Mary had her lock, and Captain Hook had his own key and so he turned it inside of her over and over again while kissing every inch of her. "Tell me you love me..." Mary whispered as she grew closer and closer, slowly edging her way to her completion.

"I love you, Mary Elizabeth Baker..." he replied as a soundless bolt of lightning touched down on the street directly in front of the Darling house. Neither Captain Hook nor Mary saw it, for together, they were off in their own world, on their own adventure.


	49. Chapter 49 Two Lovers for Mrs Darling

Chapter contains sexual situations.

My Darling Love

Chapter 49 – Two Lovers for Mrs. Darling

"_Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies."_

_-William Shakespeare_

Mary rested her head upon Captain Hook's chest. "God will never forgive me for committing this act with you in my marital bed."

Captain Hook looked up and gazed about. "Your bed? This is my bed, madam."

Mary sat up and saw the regal cabin of a pirate captain on his prized ship; she jerked her head toward him and asked, "How did you do that? Every time, I always end up here, how?"

He smirked and shook his head wide eyed with the knowing gloat he gave her when she questioned the magic of Neverland. "I just assumed you'd prefer my bed rather than the cold floor." He nuzzled her back into his embrace.

"I'm not in my body, am I, I mean I'm here in spirit, but my body is still home?"

He repeated his expression and shook his head sticking out his lower lip, "Perhaps," he answered in a raised pitch, "Perhaps not," he finished in a lower tone.

"Captain, where is my daughter? Is she dead?"

He turned on his side as she did and touched her lips, "Madam, I speak the truth when I tell you always I do not know. If she has not yet returned home to you, then I won't even venture a guess as to her whereabouts. All I know is that she is _not_ dead."

Mary gazed past him; the sun was setting and the most beautiful light poured in through the windows. She rose from his bed and wrapped herself in a shawl, taking her place nearest the window. "Why did she leave Jane with us? Why not keep her here with you?"

Captain Hook stood up and stretched, acting as if he had no idea of whom she spoke about when he queried, "Who is this Jane you always go on about?"

Mary spun about and declared, "Your daughter." Whenever they spent time together Mary always rambled on about Jane, wanting to give Captain Hook knowledge of his only child and her happy life in the Darling home.

He pulled on his breeches and raised his brow and eyes to the ceiling, trying to recall. "Oh yes, Madam, is that why you always go on and on about her."

"And you don't care after her condition, you don't want to hear of her, you don't want to know your own child?" she asked as she approached him.

"That is completely ridiculous, Madam. You know as well as I that Jane is the daughter of Mary and George Darling." Captain Hook stood at his full height and folded his arms.

"Oh really, liar."

She turned from him and he grabbed her arm with a little more force than he meant to. Seeing the pain hidden in her folded lip, he released her with a bow and a formal apology, "My mistake, Madam, I forget you bruise so easily."

Mary regained her composure, and glared into his oblivious expression. "Jane is your daughter. Just admit it!"

"Yes, I'd admit she is my daughter, but Madam, for me to be her father is impossible."

"How can she be your daughter, if you are not her father?" Mary was the one holding him roughly by the arm now, and knowing it was to cause her pain he pried her grip and once again released her hand with a bow.

"Because George Darling is her father, and Mary Darling is the child's mother." He moved from her, then, without warning, twisted his face closely to hers, "Madam, indulge me, will you? When Wendy was here in Neverland she never told me she was your daughter, as you knew her, Wendy Angelina Darling, she told me she was the virtuous fair maiden Gwendolyn from one of her many stories. So please, when you are here, leave Mary Darling at home, and just be a Queen in need of protection from a cowardly king afraid of his own shadow. Speaking of things that bring you misery, it just breaks my heart so."

"What heart?" Her comment made Captain Hook raise his hand to her, only to lower it cordially to her own, raising it for a kiss as an act of continued good faith. With this sentiment completed, he turned and waltzed casually to his wardrobe, his approval to his own taste to his attire evident on his face. Mary followed after him as he continued to dress with more concern with fastening his buttons correctly than the distress that filled her face. "Is that why she left you? Because you didn't want Jane, you only wanted her?"

Captain Hook stared at her with a blank expression, and then glanced past her with a peculiar face. "No, that is not the reason, I'll have to tell you the story sometime, remind me again, won't you?" He ignored her as he picked out a shirt and new coat, while she remained nude wrapped in a shawl.

"Where are my clothes?" Mary asked, looking about.

"They are home in your bedroom, Madam," he replied, trying hard to dress with only one workable hand.

"Must I go home?" Mary questioned as she helped him, he smiling from ear to ear,

"Absolutely, Madam, for supper is ready. Wake up, dearest, dinner is on the table."

Mary blinked on the ship in Captain Hook's cabin, and the simple act of closing her eyelids and opening them in a split second, she found herself lying on her bed, nude, wrapped in her shawl. Without thinking and without preparation for George's company, Mary sat up quickly and swung her legs around to the edge of the bed and said, "I hate it when he does that."

George sat beside her with a quizzical expression, and rubbed his chin in thought, "Hate when who does what, dearest?" George got into the habit of always called her a loving name, "dear, dearest, sweetheart, my love, darling," instead of her proper title in an attempt to squash her nervous disposition and give her the impression that, in fact, he was as harmless and lovable as a kitten.

"I'm sorry, what did you ask? I was dreaming," Mary replied when she realized she was not alone, her fearful and respectful disposition toward him suddenly returned.

"Dinner is ready, my love, the children set the table and are quite excited about it," he also tried not to command her to do anything or say a anything that sounded that way, and so this was more of a suggestion, "Perhaps you could compliment them on their efforts, dearest."

Mary nodded in submission and George shook his head and mentally kicked himself when he left her to dress.

Mary was the last one into the dining room, and the last to sit with her guests after serving the meal. She served George first, as usual, and then passed out the supper from there. Harry, his fiancée forever, her name was Constance, (who was not a barmaid at his tavern), John, his woman friend -- a young widow named Caroline -- and the five children, two of whom were the widow's, were already well into their meals before Mary even took her place beside her husband. "The children forgot the butter, Mother, could you bring it to the table?" John asked. "I need another napkin, Mama, this one is dirty from breakfast," Edmund said next. "Mary, the wine for dinner, brought it special from the tavern," Harry recommended next. "Mama, we forgot to say grace before we began eating." Jane requested. "Mama, can I have another glass of milk?" Joseph added, and so Mary went and did. She was up and down from her seat at every request, with her plate still empty while everyone else was nearly through with their meals. George was the last to make a request, and his he directed at the table, "Please, let Mama eat her dinner while it is still hot. If you need something, go get it yourself."

George stood and pulled out Mary's chair and tugged on her sleeve to sit and enjoy her meal. She did as she was told and smiled to him, "Thank you, Mr. Darling." The "Mr. Darling" part slipped out, she and George shared the same curious expression at her words. With that quick glance to George, Mary had suddenly found herself back in time to the very night when she had her engagement feast at the table of Mr. Frederick Darling the Fourth. Out of the corner of her eye, that is who Mary saw and remembered, for he had done the very same thing to her that night, with the same welcoming tone, "How rude of my boys to not rise when a lady enters the room, Mary Elizabeth, please have a seat."

The table fell silent, and Constance did her best to break the tension, complimenting Mary on her fine china pattern. "Thank you, you're very kind to notice," Mary replied, staring down at her plate, still empty of food.

"Here, Mary, let me help," George offered shoving a large pile of potatoes onto her plate. The dinner conversation was strained at best. John said nothing, only glaring at his father, Harry joked with Constance, his lover of many years, and the widow Caroline, while the children darted their eyes back and forth between the display of voices and uncomfortable faces around them.

"May we be excused, Mama?" Jane spoke for her brothers and herself.

"Yes, to the nursery for your nap, please," George replied, before Mary could even move her lips to speak. The children waited for Mary anyway, and she smiled and nodded to them, and off they went.

"Dessert, anyone?" George asked as the rest of the guests leaned back and rubbed their stuffed tummies.

"Not now, George, or we will all explode!" Harry laughed, still trying to ease the tension that had blown into the dining room.

"Alright, to the parlor then. We can sit and talk until midnight mass. Mary, my love, we will we leave you to this," George suggested, and everyone was up and out of their chairs, with the exception of Mary. She stayed behind, having barely eaten any of her food; the potatoes George gave her, for nothing else was put on her plate. George counted each time she raised her fork to her lips after quartering the smallest potato. Four pieces of potato it was, and nothing else for the Christmas Eve feast.

Mary gazed out over the table and the mess left by her family and guests. Plates, dishes, cups, glasses, silverware, and all her best dinnerware that needed to be washed, dried and put away. She picked up her plate and George's, and carried them and their glasses into the kitchen. A mass of dirty pots, pans, cookie sheets, cooling racks, spoons and spatulas piled in the sink almost to the ceiling. The children helped make dinner indeed. The stove was covered in splattered gravy and grease. She shook her head, knowing this straightening and cleaning up was to take her the rest of night. Feeling it best to start with the easiest she returned to the dining room to strip the table. As she straightened the chairs that everyone had left in disarray, she saw him.

Captain Hook sat at one end of the table, in Uncle Harry's chair, and munched on a drumstick he'd ripped from the bird, still warm on the table. "I think, instead of 'Madam' I will call you Cinderella." He smiled from ear to ear, tilting his head toward her, raising his brow. "You know, you can't go to the ball with me until you clean the castle, Cinderella, so you'd best get started." He chuckled at his own joke, raising his hook to the air to orchestrate the imaginary music that begun to play,

_"Cinderella, Cinderella, All she hears is Cinderella,_

_from the moment that she wakes up, till shades of night are falling._

_There isn't any letup, and even I can hear them calling,_

_'Go up and do the attic and go down and do the cellar,_

_you can do them both together,_

_but they both must be done before the ball_

_Cinderella._

_How lovely it would be if she could live in my fantasy._

_But in the middle of her dreaming_

_they're still there for her screaming_

_Cinderella."_

He sang raucously, and when he was finished, Mary, who stood, arms crossed while he performed, shook her head and replied, "How wonderful, did you write that yourself?"

"Ah, Madam, just for you." He toasted her with Uncle Harry's wine goblet and swigged on it before setting it down on the table and relaxing back, lifting his legs and slamming his boots onto her table. Mary sat back down in her own chair and folded her hands in her lap.

"You know, Madam, I told you if the King asks for your forgiveness and is truly sorry for his actions against you, you must forgive him. God has forgiven him and he has done a sincere and lengthy penance I assure you. Now it is your turn." In all seriousness, Captain Hook began.

Mary jerked her head up to him and he raised his brow to her once again toasting her with another wine goblet. "He has never given an apology, at least not to me," Mary replied, lowering her head.

"Yes he did Madam, while you were in the hall closet this morning. In fact, he came up with his own punishment for his misdeeds against you. I believe his words were something to the effect of, 'I'm sorry, cut my heart out Mary,' were they not, Madam? I meant to remind you when we were together earlier this afternoon, but I forgot in our passions. A thousands pardons, Madam..."

Before Mary could respond there was a knock on the front door and the sound of footsteps to answer it. Suddenly there was an enormous eruption of sound, laughing, shouting and carrying on. George's voice, choked with tears called out to Mary, "Darling Love, come quickly! See who is here, home for Christmas!" Mary looked to Captain Hook who shrugged his shoulders, picking meat from the bone he held in his hand with his hook.

Mary exhaled deeply and went to stand; she had barely left her seat when she heard her voice, Wendy's voice, from behind her. "Mother, I've come home."

Mary was shocked to hear that voice, but Captain Hook was the one aghast. He sat up at once, and peered over Mary's shoulder to the young lady standing behind her mother waiting. It had been years since Mary had seen her daughter last, and feared pulsed through her body that she would not recognize her. Mary turned around slowly, and faced her oldest child, now a woman of thirty-one.

The change in Mary was apparent the moment Wendy saw her mother's face. There was no joy, no life found in her pale cheeks. The first thought Wendy had was that her mother was ill; second was that something terribly wrong had happened in the home since her departure.

"Hug me, Mother, I have missed you so." Wendy was now as tall as Mary. But, where her beauty had once been greater than Mary's, the places Wendy had been had aged her face and body. She was no longer slim and well formed, now she was rather plump and very thick in the waist. The simple explanation given to her father the moment she entered was, "The cuisine of foreign lands in unforgiving on the figure." More so, the eldest Darling child had let her self go, attempting to eat her way out of the emptiness she felt inside. Wendy clutched her mother without Mary's arms returning the hug, and danced about to introduce her mother to, "My fiancé, Peter, remember him mother from New York City?"

Peter was a tall skinny young man with floppy blond hair and a clumsy manner, which became quite obvious when he nearly knocked Mrs. Darling over embracing her tightly around the waist instead of shaking her hand as would have been more appropriate.

"We've brought lots of presents for the children, John wrote me that you and father had another baby right after he was married. Mother, I must say I am utterly insulted that I was not told. You had my address in New York City, you should have written."

Wendy pulled her mother by the hand out into the hallway and showed her the pretty dresses she picked out for Jane, "I hope they are her size, I just guessed, I also brought her many dolls. I always wanted a sister! You, of course, will help me wrap them, Mother, I was afraid they would get ruined if they were decorated in the ship..." Wendy just kept rambling to anyone that would listen, while Mary stood alongside her expressionless.

Mary leaned back and glanced into the dining room, Captain Hook had vacated his seat and was nowhere to be seen. Mary checked all the rooms, including the hall closet. She heard a man weeping in the basement and she went down the stairs to the dimly lit room to investigate. George sat on a stool nearest the back wall with his head in his hands, crying in a manner Mary had never seen before. Harry stood at the top of the stairs, "Psst," he hissed to Mary, who quietly crept up the stairs.

"Why is he crying?"

Harry pulled her over by the kitchen sink full of pots, pan, dishes and silverware, glancing down the hall to make sure everyone was busy with their congratulating and merry making. "Mary, John knows what really happened between you and George. He had his suspicions all along, and your strange behavior as of late and tonight proved his theory true. He threatened his father after dinner."

John entered the kitchen to start tea and gather some dessert from the guests just as his threat was mentioned. "What did he say?" Mary asked Harry, but it was John who responded. "I didn't threaten him, I told him flat out I'm taking you and the children away after Christmas, and he will die old, alone and unloved like he deserves. I will not let my mother nor her children live in this house with that foul beast, I hope he stays in the basement and weeps until blood pours from his eyes. A man like that should die all by himself with no one to save him."

Mary watched John as he spoke, and looked at Harry. Then, on instinct alone, she moved her head right again and saw Captain Hook eavesdropping alongside of her. When he saw he had her attention, he politely asked her for a moment alone, "When you are done deciding the fate of the king, of course, Madam." She looked back to Harry and John, with Captain Hook tapping her on the shoulder to add his observation, "Your son here, John is it, believes his existence is the true and only reason you were beaten, Madam. Now, while others may think he is a perfect choice for judge and jury I should ask you to reconsider, as you are aware of the unknowns of this delicate matter."

Mary nodded her head in agreement and with one slap across the cheek, Mary put John in his place. "How dare you speak of your father like that? What happened between the two of us is none of your business. And who are you to tell me where my children and I are to go? You are neither my husband nor my father, they and only they will take me from this house."

Unseen -- so far -- is that there were also two Mary's. One was a loving kind wife and mother who was the picture of elegance, grace and adoring devotion to her family, only present to give undying love, unquestionable forgiveness and limitless mercy. The other was a wicked witch who plotted and schemed behind the scenes. A clever backstabber, ruthless in her endeavors with a foul tongue when provoked, the witch's presence was not always used to get only what Mary wanted for herself. For Mary was neither selfish nor heartless. The sole purpose that God intended for the wicked witch was to protect and defend those Mary loved more than herself. For the wicked Mary, there was nothing she would not do to save the ones she loved with her life. She would sacrifice everything, including herself, to rescue them, no matter how underhanded she had to be.

The evil George didn't like either of those Mary's, so he created a third, one who would be subservient and easily controlled by her own fear. The only difficulty the devil had to worry about was the simple fact that George -- the man -- had a heart that was more good than evil. So it was only a matter of time before the goodness pushed out the badness, and the old George of London returned.

Now the Good George had always known there were two Mary's but was unaware of the third, fashioned in his absence. Therefore, he was at a loss as to whom the woman was that he spent his days with. Finally, when he figured it out, it was too late, for both of the Mary's who had ensured him a happily ever after had been defeated by his own hands and impatient boot, and left for dead in the darkness, murdered by the evil of his father's blood. George could not even hold any hope of winning over the new Mary, for frankly, the third side of her heart already belonged to someone else.

Or so George thought as he cried in the basement. But neither of the first two Mary's was really dead. Actually, they waited in the magic of Neverland for a time when it was safe to return. One of the Mary's had always been stronger and that was the one that had returned and stood forward proudly and put her hands on her hips, gazing about at the mess in her kitchen, after putting her son in his place. "Everyone out!" she yelled, as she made her way down the hall and opened the front doors. She pecked John's check and led him forward, "Lots of work to be done before mass tonight, and you people sitting about chit chatting is a hindrance to my work. GO! Out!"

Harry and his fiancée, Constance, were the first with their coats and hats, John followed behind them with his lady friend and her children in tow, Wendy and Peter tried to say something, but Mary, being a loving wife and mother who wanted to forgive and dole out mercy where it was needed most only shushed them out the door and slammed it behind them. She looked up the stairs and listened, three young children fast asleep in bed. She opened the hall closet and stepped in. "What is it?" she asked the pirate captain, who sat dismally disheartened on the floor within.

"Do you love me or do you love that man you call a husband?"

Mary without taking a moment to consider her choice replied, "You know I love my husband."

He lowered his head, then looked up at her, "And me?"

Mary shook her head and rolled her eyes, "I love the part of you that is George, and you know that."

Captain Hook stood up at once and sadly offered, "Fair enough, Madam, then I will leave you to him. But, may I suggest that you tell him of your intentions." He leaned down and brushed his lips gently over hand, finishing with a bow and was then gone.

Mary entered the kitchen to find George hard at work washing dishes. He had removed his coat and tie, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he stood by the sink wearing her apron and a dishtowel over his shoulder, which he used to wipe his face. His glasses were smudged by his tears, and, with a false cheer, he offered through his broken voice, "I'll do the dishes tonight, dearest, and you can just sit back and relax!"

Mary walked over to him and gently touched his face. He turned and smiled, but cowered to hide his swollen eyes when she tugged on his shirt to face her. With both hands in the dishwater full of suds, Mary moved her head into his. Finally he moved to watch her expression, still afraid himself that she held a fear that he was angry she was not doing her job in the kitchen. Mary softly kissed over his face, ending on his lips. "I love you, George."

George Darling dropped to his knees in his kitchen and clutched Mary around waist, tightly but not too tightly, mindful that she still ached at times in the region where he'd hurt her. His rush of tears, sorrow and regret were intensified by his constant babbling of, "I love you Mary, I am sorry, please forgive me, don't leave me, please don't let any one take you from me, please. Kill me, I want to be dead without you, please cut my heart out. I'm not my father, Mary. I am not my father."

She held him back just as tightly, and when he would not rise, she fell to her knees in front him and began kissing and holding him, feeling that, with all her might, she could not get close enough to him. Her feelings of fear and dread disappeared, and as he responded in love like he always had with her, she realized the man kissing her neck and pledging his undying love to her was the one she married and not the monster that lay hidden within the dark deserted crevices in his troubled mind and heart.

"Not on the floor," Mary requested as George unbuttoned her blouse and unzipped her skirt at the same time. He valiantly lifted her up and carried her to their bed. Both wanted a rushed interlude, although neither could have offered a reasonable explanation why. They both tugged and yanked at clothes to rid of their bodies just enough to give them contact. But as he began, George did not hurry his pace, he kept a slow and lingering movement that made Mary moan with anticipation, for she already felt her completion building in her as he gave the first of many thrusts. She rolled him over on his back and mounted him, running her hands through her long hair and down her bare chest to his. He looked on in awe as she placed her index finger in her mouth to taste his sweat that she gathered from his pelvis. She gently guided her fingertip down her neck that glistened with perspiration and offered him the same which he anxiously devoured begging, "More, Mary, please, I want to taste you..."

Captain Hook sat in the armchair, directly in front of the bed watching their exchange with a look of utter disgust, rage and jealousy. His face was blank and his eyes burned hellfire, staring at his lover and her husband engaged in their passion.

George pushed Mary down on her back again, and again climbed on top of her. He lifted one of her legs straight in the air and began pushing into her hard and deep with a fiendishly swift pace, as she begged him not to stop and continue on faster. Mary cried out at the sensation that hurt but felt extremely pleasurable just the same. "Deeper, harder, faster. Give me no mercy George..." she groaned and he obliged filling her completely.

"Tell me you love me, Mary..." he asked, she answered, "I love you George."

"Tell me you want more, Mary..." he asked, she answered, "I want more George. Give me more."

"Say please, Mary..." he asked, but Mary could not answer, or give voice. His relentless movements in and out while rotating his hips to pound her deeper, harder, faster and without mercy left her breathless and in absolute ecstasy. Suddenly, George slowed his pace and leaned down to his Mary. They met in a kiss that both silently prayed would last "forever." They embraced, they kissed, they touched, and they loved, keeping all that ever was and was to be, alive and never ending between them.

So deep into their love making were they that they did not notice the door to their room creak open, nor were they aware that someone other than Captain Hook was watching. Jane, a little girl innocent of such things, curiously gazed into the room in wonder of her mother's voice that awoke her from bed. But before her eyes hit the bed her parents were on, they met Captain Hook and he hissed at her like a nasty stray cat about to attack its prey. She fled and he took to his feet after her, sneering his loathing and revulsion at the married couple consummating their undying love to one another.

George finished and then finished again. Mary did also, again, again and again. They rested alongside each other, completely out of breath, drenched in sweat, and utterly drained. Feeling it best not to ruin the moment with words of little or no meaning, George stood and went to his dresser. He pulled out Mary's dagger, entrusted to her by the dread Captain Hook himself, and raised it to his chest. He pulled it up high above his head and sent it forward aimed at his heart.

Before it could reach its intended destination, Mary jumped up knocking the dagger from his hand and George to the floor. "George, what are you doing?" Mary screamed.

"I'm doing what the blade says, I offended your heart Mary, I shall cut my own from my chest."

Mary, already in tears, pulled the knife from him, "No George, that is not what this means, did he not tell you?"

George looked to Mary with a peculiar expression, "No, he didn't. What did he say it was for?" he asked. Before Mary could respond Jane called out for them.

"MAMA! PAPA!" Jane screamed from her room. In an entangled naked mess, George and Mary darted their heads up to listen. Jane called for Mama and Papa again, and throwing on their robes, they both ran out into the hall to her room. "What is it, dearest heart?" George asked as she practically flew into her father's arms as he entered first.

"There is a wicked pirate over there!" She pointed to the open bedroom window and Mary made her way there quickly and looked out.

"There is no one there, Jane, you had a nightmare." George soothed her back into bed and covered her up. Jane begged George stay with her, even after she went back to sleep, and so he agreed, having no other choice.

Mary went downstairs after dressing for midnight mass, and again began cleaning up the dining room and finishing the washing up. Footsteps behind her made her question, "Is Jane alright, George?"

But it was not her husband who responded, "Taken another lover, Madam?" Captain Hook adoringly wrapped his arms around her waist, only to push her away with malice, "Eh, you reek of him."

The first Mary was back and now the second returned as well. The wicked witch was far more spirited in her imagination and quick-witted with her tongue and so she replied, "Funny, he never says that about you."

Happy to have his comrade back from the dead, he leaned closely to her ear and whispered, "Which one?"

Mary pulled out a chair for Captain Hook, and he sat at the table. "There is only one," Mary replied as he began tapping his fingers on the table.

"Now," he added flatly for clarification.

"Jealous, are you?" Mary offered, ending their lovers' spat, causing him to rise to his feet pointing the tip of his hook to her throat after yanking her around. Mary firmly held her stance before him; after all, she was wicked as well, and gently took his hook from her throat, clasping his left hand in hers. "There is no need for you to be jealous. Your revenge is my revenge," she whispered in his ear, and then curtsied to him as she returned to her dishes.

Captain Hook was a tad dumbfounded by her remark; he often forgot that Mary's two versions of herself could coexist in harmony at the exact same time, as they did with everyone else. But more importantly to the story, with her old self resurrected, the third side of her heart was destroyed. With George, she would be a loving wife and devoted mother, with Captain Hook she would be a wicked witch, and that was fine with him, 'so why worry after the third' he thought to himself.

Playing it cool, he leaned on the counter, alongside of her, and grinned in anticipation. "And whom do you wish to seek revenge on, Madam, surely not the King?"

Mary gazed devotedly into his crystal blue eyes, and batted her eyelashes. Hook continued: "If you had to choose between a pirate captain and his lovely ship," he returned her stare and her smile, "or a husband and this place he calls his castle," he glanced around as if sick to his stomach, "which would you choose, Madam?"

Mary continued to bat her eyelashes, giving him half a smile in the corner of her once mocking mouth, the scar from her split lip now evident on the side where George's kiss was once placed.

Mary held her seductive appearance and continued to smile, licking her lips slowly to wet them. All at once, she pushed him out of the way and strolled into parlor to George's desk. She unlocked it with her key, and removed a letter that had arrived at her home only the day before. "Can you read?" she inquired and Captain Hook, greatly insulted she thought him illiterate, snarled and yanked it from her hand, looking it over.

"This is the deal you made with George then?" Mary asked and he smiled showing she was correct in her assumption. She nodded, impressed by his shrewdness, but countered that plan with one of her own. She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered her own strategy into his eager ear. Again he smiled coyly at her clever mind. "Hm...you have given this much thought indeed Madam. Very well, however you prefer it then."

Mary offered her hand to his for a handshake and accepted the hook he offered in return carefully with her fingertips as not to cut herself on the blade's edge.

"Oh yes, Madam, but I must advise you not a word of this change in plan can be said to your husband. I gave him my word that our deal, his and mine, was the deal."

He leaned his head down for a kiss that she gave on his cheek instead of his lips. Mary finished their conversation for now with, "If you had to chose between a virtuous fair maiden or the evil queen, whom would you pick?"

"I would think my choice was already quite obvious, Madam."

"Why did you not tell him of the dagger?" Mary asked, stepping into his waiting arms as he once again read the letter. Captain Hook held his gaze to the paper and not to her when he answered, still holding her about the shoulder with the arm that held his hook, "I never thought for even a moment your husband would use it on himself. I was actually a bit shocked; luckily for him you were there to save the day. Madam, I am truly sorry. I have become absentminded, venturing back and forth, I only told you it's meaning, not the king ... although I meant to."

Mary pecked his cheek and neck, pulling on his breeches for access, while searching for his lips that he kept smirked to the side deep in thought. "How is it possible that you already thought of a better plan than the one the king concocted in only an hour's time? After all, Madam, I must say you seem so sweet, innocent and proper when in my company." He gave her an appalled expression as she managed to loosen his pants enough to have them drop to his ankles.

"What can I say? I'm a quick thinker when my mind is as it should be. Like I said, your revenge is my revenge, and George's revenge shall be my revenge as well."

Mary lowered herself to the floor and looked up to the undressed pirate captain with longing. When he did not fall to join her, she yanked him down by his shirt, causing him to land beside her with a loud thump, that made him bolt his head up to see if anyone came running at the noise of his impact. "On the parlor floor, Madam?" Captain Hook queried with raised brow. "Did your husband not ride on top of you in this way only a short time ago?"

Mary shook her head as if she had no idea what he was talking about, "George was with his wife, I am the wicked queen, Captain," she whispered, covering his neck with kisses.

"Let us seal our deal then, Madam," he replied through her affections.

"Alright, if you insist." Mary knocked him over on his back and began tearing her clothes off. Captain Hook was quite overcome by her domination of him, and interrupted her only to inform her, "I am not taking you to my ship. If you want to have at me, you will have to do it on the parlor rug."

Mary looked down at the infamous rug and about the room. "Turnabout is fair play, Captain." She winked as she hoisted herself on top of him.


	50. Chapter 50 Night of the Around Table

_Author's Note:  This is an important chapter in the story - there is a lot of background information, specifically about Mary and George's arguement, Wendy Darling and what she has been up and more intimate foreshadowing of Baby Jane given.  Again, things that don't seem to make sense now, will later..._

My Darling Love

Chapter 50 – Night of the Around Table

"_Let us not look back in anger or forward in fear, but around in awareness."_

_-James Thurber_

George fell asleep holding Jane in his arms, and neither stirred from their blissful slumber when Mary lit the lamp and touched their heads gently. The boys were also lost in the dream world, and holding true to the saying, "never wake a sleeping child," Mary walked to midnight mass alone. The other members of her family were also absent, too busy making merry at John's flat to check the time; they left Mary all alone in church. It was a celebratory mass, commemorating the birth of Son of God, and Mary could not imagine there being a more important event, nor could she imagine being too busy with anything else to have missed it. And so, she sat nearest the back away from other families that filled the pews. Mothers and fathers with their children and grandchildren in tow flowed in and took their places, as those without the good fortune to be loved by any one in the world sat by themselves in the seats surrounding Mary.

The service began, as it always did, with a children's pageant. Older children, volunteering to reenact the blessed night when Christ was born, slowly walked up the aisle. There were angels carrying stars, and then the Shepherds behind them, three wise men, and, last but not least, the Blessed Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph carrying a little baby they gently laid in the manager up front. The choir sang, the priest said his prayers, and the congregation thanked the Lord for his blessing. It only took an hour, as God only seemed to ever ask for just one hour a week or on special occasions, and then it was finished. "Go forth to love and serve the Lord and your neighbor." The priest dispatched his loyal followers and every one in attendance went forth to love and serve the Lord for the rest of the night.

Well, almost everyone. Mary stayed behind long after the candles lining the aisle was snuffed by the altar boys, and the gathered groups of happy families were gone home to their celebrations. Mary knelt throughout the entire service, and for an hour afterwards, saying her rosary in silent prayer. Now that it was well after two in the morning, she sat on the pew and looked about.

With the rich and proper of polite society gone, the poor and destitute made their way in and took spots randomly throughout the empty church to warm themselves and to pray. Mary Elizabeth Darling was the best dressed, even if her gown and coat were almost a decade old. Her hair was placed perfectly atop her head, and she wore a touch of cosmetic to cover the inevitable years that showed on her face. Those who kept her company dressed in their best rags, with greasy faces and hair. Most had no rosaries, so they prayed counting their fingertips. She rested, sitting back in the pew, and looked directly ahead to the altar, and all the gleaming candlelight that poured down and filled the church. It was her favorite time of the year, and she did look forward to it, no matter what the season. This is why everyone all around the world loves Christmas.

At a moment in her peace when she preferred to be alone in her own mind, she discovered a visitor who took his seat behind her and leaned over to her ear to give her notice of his presence, "Mary Elizabeth Baker, all by yourself on Christmas. Who would have ever guessed?"

The voice sent a chill from her toes to her hairline. Mary did not need to turn around to see who spoke to her, for she recognized the voice, as it too had haunted her dreams. "That's Mrs. George Darling to you," she retorted, looking over to her left to the man that had kept her company the entire night, only a few places away.

"No, you see Miss Baker, if it is not my name, then you are just better off keeping your maiden name, for it is undeserving...." The man coughed and hacked, and attempted to continue speaking through the ache he had in his throat.

"So am I to understand my husband is undeserving of his name?" Although she did not give him her eyes, she knew he was kneeling with his head lowered to the pew. "No, Miss Baker, from what I heard your husband _finally _earned his name. It is he who is undeserving of..." He erupted into his handkerchief again, wheezing and gagging.

The man continued to cough and spew, as an annoyed Mary sighed impatiently and cast her eyes back again and repeated the same to her companion. "It seems to me if I would have received your name, I would be a widow before the New Year is even upon us -- or sooner, if we are fortunate."

The man panted, catching his breath, and composed himself, falling back into the pew, making a loud creak, which silenced those, praying around him for a moment. "Just a nasty bout of the flu, I'll be fine... Where is my baby brother anyway? Not like him to miss a chance to show off his beautiful wife and children?"

Peter Darling now coughed an enormous amount of phlegm from his throat and lungs, and then spit it out onto the floor nearest where he sat. Vagabonds from the streets, who sat closest to him, only hiding in the church for warm shelter with no intention of saying a rosary or asking for blessings, got up and left at his foul desecration. Captain Hook, sitting at the end of the row Mary occupied, hooded in black, shook his head and made the sign of the cross over his chest as did Mary in unison.

Peter now leaned over and touched Mary's shoulder. As he did, Captain Hook turned his head to give warning to the unsuspecting assailant, returning his gaze forward once more as Peter removed his hand from her. "Just answer me something, Miss Baker, and then I'll leave you alone," he remarked.

"Forever?" Mary countered to the old man sitting alone behind her laughing and coughing his heart out inside God's House.

"Tonight and maybe tomorrow," he replied as Mary nodded her head eager to accommodate his request, wanting him to leave. "Do you think George beat you the way he did because he was angry that you tricked him into another baby, or that you trapped him by having another baby? I'd bet my pocket money you trapped him to keep him, at least that's my guess."

Mary finally turned to gaze upon the desecration of man Peter had transformed into, bald now except for a patch of white on top. Time and events had not been good to Peter, his teeth were rotted - most blackened, the rest missing. His face, hands and what could be assumed the rest of his body was covered in sores, open and infected. Deep dark lines showed on his face as well as a nasty scar, a large gash that has been stitched horribly by an incompetent physician, running from his forehead well past his chin and neck. "Tricked? Trapped? I have no idea what you are talking about, Peter."

"I think you do, Mary Elizabeth Baker. Come on, not like good old George to not want to stick it in you all the time, that must have been your first clue as a newlywed..." He cackled as he spoke, and began coughing again, this time falling over on his side. He emitted a pained moan, as if the constant hacking left him in agony. As he spit into his handkerchief, Mary caught sight of the blood and slimy tissue polluted with whatever made him sick. "What did he tell you, he didn't want to bother you after you had such a hard time birthing that baby girl? He's not even a good liar! You knew he was leaving you. You knew he was about to give up and go home to his mommy. My little baby brother George had everything worked out, he always enjoyed manipulating the numbers. He paid off your parents so they would take you and that baby girl in, and my parents so they would take him back. He arranged everything nice and neat in a little package and mailed it off. He was going to support you and what's her name, until your mother and Auntie Millie could marry you off to someone else, someone else who had more money, a better profession, someone worthy of you, but with the same name, quietly, as not to cause a scandal. And who did you think that was? Could it have been me?"

Mary lowered her head and clutched her rosary. Captain Hook slid himself tentatively down further to the end of the pew away from Mary, rising up and taking his leave. Mary glanced up to see him go, and he blew her a kiss to ensure her of his speedy return. "I hate my mother, that wicked bitch," Peter sneered, kneeling again to sit against the pew behind Mary. He reeked of liquor, tobacco, urine, body odor, and the filthy streets he lay in at night. "'George can't move back in here, we've rented his room out, he'd best buy himself a house and then he can stay there and only visit with us for dinner and such ...' 'When George gets ordained as a priest, the bishop will be impressed when he donates the house to the church ...' 'Peter, you should move Mary by herself in to your home, leave that baby with her parents, you don't want George's bastard around your own children ...' 'Mr. and Mrs. Baker always wanted another baby, and they can raise it as their own, no one will remember that George ever fathered a baby...' " Peter droned on doing his best Mrs. Frederick Darling impression with a haughty over-exaggerated high-pitched squeak.

"You know, Mary, what my mother really wanted to do was kill your baby girl, erase her from existence. She had already asked me to arrange it, you know, have someone...someone, Mary, who could snatch her from the park or your flat...well, you can imagine what would come next... George would surely get promoted to pope quicker when people learned he had fathered a baby that was murdered, and then, overcome with grief and guilt over his sins, devoted his life to God.  You have me the thank that you having your precious little angel murdered didn't happen.  Me and only me, Mary Elizabeth Baker..."

Mary sat up suddenly in her seat, she moved to rise, but Peter caught her hand as she used the back of the pew for leverage. "Hit a nerve there did I?" He smiled ear to ear before regaining his ragged breathing and wheezing. "I was this close to being your husband," he showed her with his free hand how close he was putting forward his grimy thumb and forefinger together so closely they were one. "And the best part was -- it was George's idea, totally his own without any help from me. Ha, he thanked me when I accepted his offer to take you off his hands; he acted as if I was doing him a favor. But you wouldn't let George go, you hate to lose, and your own husband was about to betray you. He bought the house and you were just waiting for him to pack you and that little baby up and say, 'best move back in with your parents, my Darling Love, only for a little while.' You knew he was going to run away and go off to God like his mommy wanted to start his life over.

"You see, sweetheart," Peter now tightened his grip on Mary using both hands and squeezing down hard, "George was too much of a coward to fight for you and your child. He was scared out of his mind being a husband and a father. He hated it, Mary. 'Best I become a priest like mother wants, I'm no good at being a provider for a wife and child,' were his own words. You might be very experienced in confronting and conquering evils, but my baby brother would just as well have surrendered and run with his tail between his legs."

Peter would not let go of Mary's hand as she struggled so she hit him with her handbag, and began screaming for help. "George was going to feed you to the lion, Mary, and you found out. How did you find out, I always wondered? Won't you please tell me? A last request for a dying man, please!" Peter cried out as the constable assigned to watch over the church on Christmas, as it was open all hours of the day and night for parishioners, dragged him away kicking and screaming.

"Your mistress told me."

Peter let his legs fall out from underneath him and gave the constable no further scuffle. "Penny was no mistress, Miss Baker, me having to pay her husband for it makes her a whore."

Mary was enraged, Peter soiling the name of her best friend, not to mention a dead woman in the ground, unable to speak in her own defense. She wasted no time in taking after him with her fists clenched.

"Do not to beat him any closer to death, Madam, what would God think?" Captain Hook offered as she ran into him, a brick wall in her path to Peter. Her brother-in-law still cried out to her, imitating his mother, as he was loaded in the paddy wagon, "Peter dear, you can't marry her now that my idiot son put another baby in her. One unwanted burden of fatherhood the church can look past, but two keeps him trapped in hell..."

"Say it isn't so, Madam," Captain Hook joked, as Mary, still in his embrace pushed back and sneered, "Shut up."

She began quickly walking home alone in the middle of the night, Captain Hook strolling behind her, humming a few bars of Cinderella. "I think I shall have to think up a new song for you now, Madam. May be something to honor the wicked fairy in Sleeping Beauty, you know -- the one that cursed the fair maiden into snoring away one hundred years of her life."

Mary did not think his taunting was funny; she stopped in her tracks, and whirled about to him. But before she could give voice, he offered his instead, "I must know Madam, was it a trick or was it a trap to keep your king?" Captain Hook crossed his arms, unaffected by her furious expression.

"Maybe, just maybe Captain, a little bit of both. But not the way you are thinking and far from the falsehoods Prince Peter the imposter weaves. It's a very lovely story. I'll have to tell you sometime, remind me again, won't you?"

It had begun to snow and the walks as well as the streets were already covered in it. Captain Hook hated the cold, and the snow even more; he reaffixed his hood on his head and bowed to her. "Happy Christmas, Madam." Off into the fog that descended down onto them he went.

Mary walked home faster than she normally would have from church in the weather. She was all by herself, and the fact that it was well past three in the morning contributed to her reasoning that it was wisest to be in the safety of her home. Without trouble from others out on the street this late at night, with the exceptions of a few mumbled apologies by drunk gentleman stumbling home themselves, Mary made it in her door, out of breath and cold to the bone, soaking wet.

Harry greeted her and helped her take her coat off. "Tea to warm you in the kitchen, Mary," Harry said, after extending his apologizes for missing mass.

"Don't say you are sorry to me, that's between you and God, good man," Mary replied as she now strode into her kitchen.

John sat at the kitchen table, as did Captain Hook already in her house, waiting. Mary let out a groan of irritation, not for her son but for the constant bother of a pirate captain that seemed to follow her around endlessly, demanding her attention.

"I'm sorry, Mother, if you want me to leave I will."

John began to rise, but Mary lovingly placed her hands to his face and kissed his cheek. "No John, not you. It's just teacups half full of cold tea left on the table seems to have become a normal annoyance in this house." The teacup was full and hot, for Harry had just poured it for himself before Mary walked in the door. It made no difference to Mary, who lifted the saucer and purposely dropped the cup resting upon it into the lap of Captain Hook.

He kicked back from his chair, just in time to avoid most of it. John stared at the chair that had just moved by itself with wonder and amazement. He ran his hand over the seat and gazed underneath the chair for some hint of an explanation. Captain Hook watched John as his hand was in his lap, and then moved his legs out of the way to give John an easier time looking underneath. Mary paid neither any mind, setting the teacup (which did not break when it hit the floor, having been cushioned by her unseen guest's boot) and the saucer into the sink. "What is this man doing?" Captain Hook asked to Mary who ignored him and sat down opposite of the two.

"John," she said, to regain his attention away from the empty chair, she folded her hands in front of her and leaned toward her favorite son. He looked at her only for a moment before advising Harry against sitting in the chair capable of moving on its own accord.

Harry mumbled something about "rubbish" and took the chair anyway. An infuriated Captain Hook, who preferred lovely young ladies with ample fannies on his lap and not middle-aged gentlemen who stank of pipe tobacco, expelled him to the floor.

"See, I told you," John said as he helped his uncle to his feet and assisted him to another chair.

Mary still watched her son, and nothing else going on around the room, including Captain Hook cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his hook. "John, tell me about Neverland and Peter Pan."

John was momentarily baffled by her request. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, thinking very hard over her question. "I'm sorry, Mother, is that one of the children's fairy tales? I'm not certain I remember one by that name. What was it about?"

Mary stared at him. "It's the one about Captain Hook." Hearing his name, the good Captain turned his head with an inquisitive face to John who responded, "Captain whom?"

"Hook, she said Captain Hook," the man himself answered, waving his hook that replaced his right hand only an inch from John's unmarked face.

"He was a pirate, John." Mary went on.

"Pirate captain, Madam,' Captain Hook corrected.

"Oh yes, of course, how impolite of me, I am very sorry, a pirate **_captain,_** John. He is a pirate captain."

John and Harry looked to one another, more to question whom Mary was apologizing to than the question itself. "Mother, the children don't like stories about pirates and scary things like that," John said uncomfortably.

Captain Hook stood from his chair with such force; it flew back and hit the wall behind it, a few feet away. Harry and John were both on their feet staring at the chair, afraid to go near it. Mary now watched Captain Hook, who had risen to his full height and stood enraged that the Darling children thought pirates were something to be feared. "Pirates are not scary!" Captain Hook declared to the entire room.

Mary shook her head and tried to contain a small giggle that erupted, inspired by the great Captain Hook preening himself, pulling down his jacket coat and quickly searching for his sword, which he had left behind onboard his ship.

"Mary, what are you looking at, is there someone out the window?" Harry moved to the kitchen window and looked outside, finding nothing but snow and no tracked footprints below, he turned to find Mary still watching Captain Hook, his head raised with pride. "Pirates are misunderstood by most men. We are very nice people, with friendly dispositions, that is, once you take the time to get to know us."

Mary had to laugh at that comment, so she did. Harry began waving his hands through Captain Hook, "Is there something here in the room, Mary, what is it."

Captain Hook smiled at Mary with a raised brow, pointing her attention to John, who now saw the same thing she was seeing, a pirate captain in his full regalia, sans hat and sheathed sword, standing in the Darling kitchen. John shoved back in his chair and stood shaking uncontrollably trying to speak. All he could weakly manage was "Mother..." before he held his hand to his chest and fainted.

Mary was at his side in a moment, "I think he's fainted, Harry," she said waving a napkin over his face. She looked up to Captain Hook, who had retaken his seat and was sipping from her teacup. "Did he see you?" Mary asked to thin air and Harry watched her head's direction in wonder.

"I didn't hit him, Mary," Harry explained trying to make sense of her odd behavior.

"Yes Madam. Indeed he did."

"Why did he faint?" Mary asked, looking back and forth to Captain Hook and Harry to make her question to the pirate captain sitting in her kitchen less obvious. Harry stood shaking his head; "Maybe he fell unconscious because it is very warm in the kitchen." He shrugged, showing he really was as oblivious to the reason as she.

John came to only moments later, and rubbed the back of his head, "Are you alright, John?" Mary asked, helping him to his feet with Harry's aid. John looked back to where Captain Hook sat and shook his head, "It was the strangest thing; I could have sworn I saw this evil man standing in the kitchen dressed like a pirate or something. I felt sick to my stomach and then everything went blank. What were we talking about?"

Captain Hook lowered his head still seated and sighed with a glum face, "So I'm evil, am I..."

Harry ushered John up the stairs, feeling it best he take to his bed and not travel home in his car this late at night.

"He remembered," Captain Hook finally explained to Mary, who was still kneeling on the floor watching her son and brother-in-law head up to bed.

"Remembered what?" Mary was exhausted, and knew it was to be a very long day ahead of her tomorrow as she sat back down at her kitchen table resting her head in her hands.

"Everything, Peter Pan, Captain Hook, Mr. Smee, Princess Tigerlily, the Lost Boys, Tinkerbell, mermaids, pirates, booby traps, the Jolly Roger, sword fights, cannon balls, the whole ruckus it was when he was there last." Mary turned her tired head to him, "And he fainted..." She looked at him, expecting response and reason.

"He passed out, Madam, because he is too old to remember. He is an adult, a full-grown man, with no magic for such things left. When the memory tugs at him now, it makes him sick to his stomach. The force of childhood and imagination it requires to call to mind all that was once so real to him, causes his tiny little brain to shut down and block all those wondrous things out."

"I have been to Neverland, I never faint or get sick," Mary responded, folding her arms in a motherly manner. "That is because you go there not as a child, but as a mother. Creating a child from nothing more than the love she has for a simple man is a miracle. The ability a mother has to bond with and love someone she has never even seen before is a miracle. And you love your children; just because they come from that man you call a husband, Madam.  While you carried them they took from you all they needed without asking, and in being born they gave you great pain.  And still when your children arrived, and they all expected limitless love and protection, you, and only you, their mother, had it to give first.  You did, willingly and without question.  And all their lives you will never expect anything from them in return, but that they live on and appreciate the life you gave them.  That is a miracle too. It is those miracles when carried within a body that leaves behind something in a woman. That is why you will always remember Neverland, because parts of those miracles remain inside of you forever, and will always bring you there if need be. Now tell me a story."

"George went to Neverland, too," Mary countered, not yet ready to tell her tale.

"On a technicality Madam, call it what you will -- guilt, remorse, fear of losing someone he was this close," he mimicked Peter's hand gesture from church, "to willingly giving up. Fathers only love the part of their children that belongs to themselves, there is no magic or miracle in that. Now tell me a story."

Mary sat back in her chair still holding her arms crossed, she lowered her head down to look into her teacup, empty. Captain Hook took her hint and filled her cup and his also, and then nodded for her to begin.

"Once upon a time, there was a wicked and evil queen who loved her king and was willing to do whatever it took to defend him and save him from his foes. But his foes were more numerous than he could count, and more powerful than he. Try as they might to work together in their crusade, they met defeat under the worst circumstances. A spy working as an aid to the Queen confessed the king was ready to surrender to his archenemy, a horrid, wretched prince from the opposing kingdom. He had already waved his white flag and was to concede the Queen on the first of November. But the sinful and awful Queen had a plan of her own. She tricked her unsuspecting king into creating another heir with the queen. They already had one princess and soon they would have a prince. With a royal family, the king had no choice but to helm the kingdom and sit on the throne he thought he alone had fashioned. Eventually the King found out about the Queen's trick or trap, whichever you prefer, and wanted to hang her, but God told him that vengeance was his and his alone. The end."

"How lovely, Madam, you should write children's novels." Captain Hook grinned swigging his tea down. "The hour is late, I must be off, raping, and pillaging, you know, pirate things your children fear."

He moved to stand but the wicked witch now a queen had another idea. "I know I another story, I promise it is much better. Would you like to hear it?" He nodded, and settled back down in his seat.

"There once was a fair maiden who loved a boy that refused to grow up. Now this fair maiden, had a mother that was a dreadful Queen, the same from my previous story, and that Queen was always plotting and planning the downfall of far away kingdoms, and kept her best ideas and schemes locked away in a secret drawer. You see, this queen wrote everything she had ever accomplished down in a diary and hid it away, out of sight from the king, for if he knew everything she had truly done, he would surely hang her, no matter what God told him. Now, this fair maiden, we will call Gwendolyn, came across the diary one day by accident and spent hours and hours reading over it all. Instead of tattling on her mother, she put the journal to good use, and concocted her own plan to make the boy grow up and love her." Mary smiled to Captain Hook who had put his arms behind his head and placed his feet up on her table.

"Gwendolyn, seeing what she thought was the error of her own mother's ways, went about tricking the boy into love a tad bit differently than the queen. For the king always loved the Queen, and Gwendolyn reasoned that the young boy did love her only he didn't know it yet. So first she had to teach him lesson, what his life would be like without her forever. She felt the best person to help her in her scheme would be the archrival of the young boy. Can you guess who that was?"

Mary raised her brow and Captain Hook intrigued by her candor replied, "A pirate captain?"

"Have you heard this story?" Mary asked as he, still seated, rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I think so, Madam, but won't you please go on."

"Of course, she couldn't tell the pirate captain what she was up to, she is, after all, underhanded in her misdeeds like her mother, so the fair maiden seduced the unwitting pirate captain. Unfortunately it is not a happy tale for him, for he fell victim to her charms, and fell madly in love with her. But she only used him to make the young boy jealous and green eyed with envy. Her plan worked, for soon they, Gwendolyn and the boy who never wanted to grow up, went off together on their own adventures and left the pirate captain old, alone and unloved. I'll have you know the fair maiden and the boy were laughing at the pirate captain when they thought the Queen wasn't listening, and even she thought Gwendolyn was very wicked in her ways, playing games of the heart. Now, don't you think for one moment the pirate captain is a fool!" Mary tapped his hand to gain his attention from the ceiling he was glaring at in anger.

"No Madam, I assure the pirate captain is no fool."

"Of course he isn't, because he is just as wicked, evil, malicious and devious in his plans as the queen, and he sought his revenge. I am sure you are aware every man who wishes to marry a young lady thinks it only right that he be the very first to take her to bed?" Captain Hook nodded, "Well, this is why the Queen herself disapproved of her daughter's actions. The young boy only knew of a courtship, but not a consummation of shared affections and lust between the maiden and the pirate captain. When he found out, he was furious and refused to see her again, ever. She went home to her kingdom, never wanting her parents to discover the lies she was living in. She already knew her mother thought her stupid or silly for playing with men's hearts as she did. Her father was appalled by her soiled virtue. Her only salvation was the pirate captain, and to him she returned. And he was no fool, for he tricked her into sailing away with him, away from her kingdom, away from the boy who would not grow up. But he no longer felt the same about her either, he knew where her heart lay and so he punished her, a final nail in her coffin. He gave her a child, and denied its paternity, leaving the child abandoned in the kingdom with the king and queen..."

"No, you're wrong, Madam. Up until that point where the pirate captain being her salvation you were correct, but after listening to your story beyond that I fear you will not give this happy tale a proper ending. So allow me." Captain Hook glanced to Mary who motioned for him to continue.

"We know the true names of the characters, so I will use them. Wendy returned to Captain Hook and begged his forgiveness, admitting her wrongs against him, and pledging her undying love to him. This love you speak of not being a new emotion to him, he forgave her wholly and they would have lived happily ever after, had it not been for the boy who refused to grow up, his name is Peter Pan. You see, Madam, Peter Pan does have at least one belief I am aware of, and that is just because I don't want something anymore, does not mean you can have it. He bided his time, for as you know, he is far more wicked and evil than any queen or pirate captain, and waited. I did take the fair maiden Gwendolyn away, Madam, and sailed the seven seas, but I never kept her from her kingdom, that was her choice. But eventually Captain Hook, that's me, had to return to Neverland, for those are the rules." As he told his side of the tale, Captain Hook proved he was an expert storyteller himself, making facial expressions complete with grins and raised brows, changing to tones of his voice as the emotion of the sentence required.

"Rules?" Mary asked intrigued.

"Oh yes, Madam, there are rules. There are always rules..." His handsome face fell very serious and his tone grew solemn. They watched one another in silence for moments before he continued. "Peter Pan knew Captain Hook wanted nothing more in the world than to be married to a wife and be called 'father' by children of his own. I'm really quite fond of children I'll have you know, as a matter of fact, if you, Madam, were still able to bring forth life, we would already have a litter." He touched Mary's hand, informing her of a detail she was unaware of, and then went on. "But, the rules I spoke of do not allow it under any circumstances, at least for me. You see, Madam, I have rules that I must obey and Peter Pan has another set of rules he must abide by. Think of us a chess pieces on a board. Now the rules of the game are the same for everybody, but the strategy behind the one who guides us around is quite different. Did I not explain this to you once already?"

Mary nodded her head slowly with a concerned expression and rested her hand on his. "Go on Captain, I did not mean to interrupt you."

"No need to apologize, Madam, I am the one who digressed, where was I? Oh yes, anyway, so there was this ball the king and queen were throwing for their son, the prince, and his intended and the maiden Gwendolyn wanted to go, but Captain Hook could not leave for he had already been gone too long from his post sailing the seven seas. Remember, the rules ... so she arranged that Peter Pan would give her safe escort. And he did, but also he sent word to Captain Hook that the maiden was in trouble, so having no choice, I went to her and broke the rules. Now, I'm just guessing, but I feel that it was a trick by Peter Pan, for no children could ever be conceived in Neverland. So Captain Hook and Wendy made love, and made a child there in the king and queen's kingdom."

"Why can no children be conceived in Neverland?"

"Because there is no essence of time there. It's timeless, that is why I, nor anyone else, trapped there, with the exception of fairies, ever age." he offered to her baffled expression. "So, she returned with child, but could not stay because, not only can a baby not be conceived there, it cannot be carried there also. Peter Pan, and please Madam, do not confuse him as the hero of our story, who had already margically established a grown up life elsewhere, returned there to that place with the fair maiden Wendy, and she gave birth to a little baby girl, she named Jane. After my mother, if you were wondering. She wanted to keep the baby, but Peter Pan could never love her the way she wanted him to with Captain Hook's bastard daughter crawling about, for that baby would always be a constant reminder of whatever it was that drew Wendy to Captain Hook, or so Pan said."

"So she left the baby with her parents, the king and queen, because he asked her to. And still after all you allowed her to return to you?" Mary was taken aback by this revelation and its surprise quite obvious on her face.

"She never returned to me again Madam. The last time I saw her was the day she left Neverland escorted by Peter Pan, with my life blooming inside of  her.. After Jane was placed in your care, Peter Pan came back only to brag at what he had accomplished, informing me that Wendy was never to return to Neverland, preferring to stay with him in the real world where they would together go off on their own adventures. He would get to be a 'husband' and maybe even 'father' but I doubt the latter of the two," Captain Hook responded, shocked at the notion Mary had not yet caught on.

"Madam, indulge me in a roundabout manner. Once Wendy left Jane with you, she never returned to Neverland, and she never remembered anything that transpired there, or here, for that matter. The only thing Peter Pan ever told me of Wendy's involvement with our daughter was she didn't want any part of Jane because she was mine. I was nothing more to her then the scoundrel that had apparently raped her and spoiled her virtue. Thankfully, your father intervened on my behalf, and then and only then I was able to see Jane. Had I not sent one of my subordinates to go and get Jane on the first full moon of every month those first few years of her existence, I would have never even seen her at all. And without even my daughter as my salvation, Madam, well you can imagine my suffering. And the rule I broke to rescue the fair maiden Gwendolyn on the night before your son's wedding, and staying later then I meant to, I am to be punished for that as well. Oh yes, my life had just been one joy after another in matters of the heart."

Mary did not know it, but she now had tears running down her face. "That was your punishment? You can't see Jane anymore? Why? If she is your daughter, then you should see her."

Captain Hook lowered his head to the table and rested it there, his tone was full of irritation, offering only, "No, Madam that was is not my punishment. And I don't see Jane anymore because GEORGE DARLING IS HER FATHER, Madam, not I! I have no right to her under God on this earth! I broke every rule, seeing her when it was forbidden, every time Jane ventured near Neverland I was putting her in grave danger. Some risks are not worth the reward."

Mary stood from her chair and hugged him, "You told me yourself, God is merciful, and you should pray to Him to help. Ask Him..."

Captain Hook cut short her suggestion by slamming both his hook and hand down on the table, "I HAVE ASKED HIM, MADAM, personally..."

"And what did He say?" Mary asked stepping quickly back from him.

Captain Hook looked at her intently, not wanting to reveal certain things very personal, especially with God watching. "You know what He said, Madam." His eyes told Mary all she needed to know and she fell silent, but only for a moment.

"What you spoke of, her having to ... There must be another way ... God will not take Jane from me ... you said it yourself, you have no right to her under God on this earth and I am her mother and George is her father ... why are we to be punished as well ..." Captain Hook touched Mary's cheek as he stood to calm her frenzied jabbering.

"There is no one safe from punishment in this situation, Madam, for we all have wronged the ones we love. No one intermingled in this is innocent, and all will suffer for their sins, Madam. You must remember that Jane does not belong to you or George or Wendy or myself. She was stolen from heaven, and, God as merciful as He is, does not like thieves, and those who take what is not theirs to have must be punished, especially when they are not remorseful for their wrongs. But do not worry, Madam, God is swift with his sword."

"You are His sword, for George and I at least?"

Captain Hook smiled lovingly still holding his hand to Mary's cheek guiding his fingertips gently down to her lips. "Not in the way you are thinking. Our situation is something completely different, Madam. I am not here to punish you -- or your king, for that matter."

Captain Hook smiled adoringly at her weary tear soaked face. He touched her lips and leaned his head into hers, "After all this time, you still don't remember me, do you? Well, I guess what they say it true Madam, with God all things are possible."

Captain Hook stepped away and crossed his arms, giving Mrs. Darling a fiercely serious face. Mary shook her head frantically in response, "No, when my children were lost, that is when we first met, and you hated me." Mary sat back down in her chair, crying hysterically still shaking her head.

"Well, at the time of which you speak, I had to hate you, for that is what you needed. Madam, do you not remember your dreams? You've seen me, Madam. Ask me of George and how he literally fell into your lap, well, that explanation is easy, you see me in your husband's likeness, because God made him that way. You said it yourself, you love the part of me that is your husband. That is because he was my replacement to you. You always question the magic of Neverland. Desire no further proof of its mysteries, we have met before, you just don't remember, and not the time when your children were lost!" Captain Hook's voice was becoming enraged with her deaf ears, and now he ranted on with unforgiving menace is his voice.

"George is his father's son, had you not interceded, nay, say if God were without foresight into the future, your husband would have died of smallpox when he was four years old. His mother thought him blessed for surviving, that is why she wanted him to become a priest and made it her life's work to see it so. Had you not needed him, had you not run away when you were a young woman into the night sky with the boy who will not grow up, George would have been the mirror image of the father you saw this very evening at supper. He would have become a man that works as a loan collector, who beats his wife and whom his children fear. It is all there in his heart, Madam, latent, undisturbed. At times in your life, you have unknowingly awoken the sleeping evils that dwell in him, in his blood. There are two Georges, Madam, which do not intermingle together well. It is either one or the other, for both cannot live at the same time. That is why he beat you. That is why he committed adultery. That is why at times you are afraid of him. But fear not, for soon he will defeat those evils within him without any help from anyone but himself as he has to, to conquer them, finally."

"Jane does not remember you. She is real, you have no right to her. God would not have let her be born only to use her punishment," Mary replied, breathless, trying to compose herself, as Captain Hook gave a silent reply with his eyes.

"She is my daughter, by all rights she is still mine, but not in this world in which she exists. Did you not notice that after your father died she changed in subtle ways? She is no longer 'divine" as most called her. Both you and your husband scoffed it off that it was the influence of John's children, but it was not. The night I made love to your daughter here in your kingdom I gave Wendy the stairway to heaven, and she found an open window to rob out of. And she did, she took Jane, an angel that was to come to her at much later date. When your father died, Madam, God closed that window. The magic that is mine that she has within her heart has faded in my absence, but it is still there. It does not matter that she does not remember me, although she will. Nothing will ever change the fact that she is cast in my shadow that will follow faithfully behind her, her entire life. Which, Madam, as I have informed both you and your husband will not be for much longer. And Madam, you must remember, we punished through our children...Jane will serve as God's sword, not only for your husband and yourself, but for Wendy and I also.  With one swift thrust of the blade, he will cut from all of us, our hearts..."

Mary's head fell hard on the table with all the over whelming information she had prayed to God for. He must like Mary, for whenever she asked Him for a favor, He obliged. The first light of dawn had made its way through the window as Captain Hook let out a rather deep and sorrowful sigh. "How did you know my husband's name? You never spoke it before." Mary's muffled voice reflected from the table her lips were flattened to.

"I just assumed that was your husband's name, Madam. That is what you always insist on calling me whenever we make love."

"I never speak a name Captain."

No Madam, not with your tongue – but, with your heart."

"What is your first name captain?"

"It's James, Madam, but you don't have to call me by it. I am aware you are not fond of that name."


	51. Chapter 51 Martyr of the Confessional

_Author's Note: Now, these next 10 chapters are my favorite chapters... I swear to you, I spent a week on each one to make sure I covered almost everything. I have an entire notebook full of my ramblings and ideas just about these chapters. I hope you like them. Again, my continued thanks to Cheetahlee for her continued help and input._

My Darling Love

Chapter 51 – The Martyr of the Confessional

"_Justice divine has weighed, the doom is clear._

_All hope renounce ye lost who enter here."_

_-Dante_

"So let us summarize for a moment, Madam, what we know and do not know. You know that I am a pirate captain who lives in an imaginary world called Neverland. You know that your daughter seduced me to make her former sweetheart jealous, you are already aware that she was no virtuous maiden, by your own knowledge. You know she bore me a child, fled with said previous sweetheart to whom she is now engaged. We know my fate, the fate of Jane, the fate of Wendy and hopefully Peter, your brother-in-law and Peter Pan and the master plan that must come very soon into fruition. We know we are in your kitchen at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day, more tea?" Captain Hook spoke dangling the teapot above her cup with an exaggerated smile.

"No, thank you, sir. Alright, that is what we know, and what was it again that we do not know?" Mary replied with her arms folded. She was dead tired, too tired to keep her eyes open. Odd, Captain Hook never got tired. "Do you ever sleep, Captain?"

"Hm, Madam? Did you say sleep?" he asked pouring himself another cup and filling hers again for good measure. She nodded her response, yawning with a wide mouth she left purposely uncovered. "Yes, I sleep...God is the only being that never sleeps..." His disposition went dark suddenly, and he stared off ahead, seeing something in his own head that was there, but just not in her kitchen. Captain Hook held his stare and his words. Back in Neverland, he looked off into the horizon, it was just as cold as it was in London. Everything was frozen over, including the floorboards he stood upon. A mermaid, actually several mermaids jumped up out of the waters and began their accounts of another matter of great importance to him.

THUMP – brought him back to Mary in her kitchen as her head hit the table. "Are you alright, Madam?" he asked as she lifted it, rubbing her forehead.

"Yes, I'll just rest my eyes for a moment." She laid her head back down on the table and closed her eyes and within a second, she was fast asleep, and he was all by himself in her reality. Captain Hook inhaled deeply, blinking once, and he stood back aboard the Jolly Roger, a mass of mermaids now in the ocean surrounding the ship. "Oh dearest Lord, I don't even have two hands!" he shouted out to those frolicking around in the waters below. Those in the ocean were still insistent only until the waves of the calm waters began rocking the boat, shifting it to and fro, knocking anything not nailed down overboard. The mermaids being pelted with wood, cannonballs and even a cannon that fell as the waves grew higher and higher fled back to the safety of shore. "Thank you..." Captain Hook offered and blinked back to the Darling Home.

Captain Hook left Mary at the table and ascended the stairs to the second floor. He progressed further through a doorway to the third level of the house, a huge attic George had converted many years before into a glorious bed and sitting room, just for Wendy. But Wendy was no longer staying there. Instead of the lovely things Wendy had taken so much time and consideration choosing for her own, the walls were now bare and only a few antique pieces of furniture, old and worn, were placed sporadically throughout. Her once glorious sitting room with the expensive oak writing desk and lounging sofas was now filled with boxes and boxes of unpacked personal effects of the new tenant.

Captain Hook discovered its new resident in the attic when he stepped on his sleeping body, heading to the bed. Uncle Harry on the floor, slumbering peacefully. Captain Hook squatted down staring intently at him. John slept in his sister's once cozy and romantic bed, snoring loudly, stealing away the pirate captain's attention. The canopy that had hung there when she slept there was pulled down and discarded in the corner, dusty and torn, and her many fluffy pillows were replaced with one ratty flat old bag of feathers John rested his head upon.

Captain Hook turned and casually strolled down the stairs, in no hurry at all, and glanced off to his left. "The nursery," he said to himself. He made his way there and peered in. Two boys still fast asleep in bed. He took a better look at their dream-filled faces, carbon copies of their father who was a carbon copy of his own father before him. No wonder not a soul questioned that George was their father, "But who is your mother, children? Certainly not who you think."

There was one bed, normally empty, as Captain Hook had seen this himself, but tonight it had an occupant, Wendy. She rested in blissless slumber, squeezed all the way to the right side of the bed, as if any second another would join her and would share her bed. But the other he assumed would take the left side, slept on the floor by the window. "Pan," Captain Hook whispered as he looked over the once young boy now become full-grown adult.

"James..." Wendy repeated in her sleep and clutched her pillow easing the urge Captain Hook had to kick the boy -- who would not grow up but finally did -- to death, "Please, James ... hold me ..."

Her pleading fell on deaf ears as James, or Captain Hook as he preferred, turned with a raised brow shaking his head. Wendy grew restless in her slumber and began calling "James ... Please, help me ... hold me ... don't leave me ...not tonight..." out into the nursery loud enough to wake everyone in the house. Captain Hook leaned down closely to her ear and whispered, "Be careful, dearest Gwendolyn, or your parents will hear you or worse, your fiancé..." Wendy fell silent and he left the nursery, heading straight down the hall to Grandpa Joe's old room.

Inside were the two missing family members, still unseen tonight, George and his daughter Jane. They slept side-by-side, facing one another. George snored as did Jane directly into the other's face. Her tiny hand rested on George's forehead and his arms were pulled up tightly to his chest, he was still wearing his spectacles and clothes, Jane in her nightgown. Here, Hook took a moment and touched the young child's hair, long curly dark locks that ran all the way down her back. He knew without seeing them she had the bluest eyes, and as his hand passed one last time over her head, she moved her own hand from George's forehead and placed it gently over his. "Papa..." she yawned and opened her eyes. As she did, Captain Hook closed his own eyes and was gone from their reality.

She repeated her vocalization to George, who opened his the same and they both looked at one another with a small smile. "Keep rubbing my head, Papa, it feels nice." George thought she was still dreaming, but indulged her request anyway. He was now wide awake as the morning light poured in, she was back to sleep in only a few seconds, snoring her delight in his soft touch. George gazed on her beauty, even though in his heart he knew she was not of his body, he loved her the same if not more than his own daughter, for she thought him the bravest of all men. And he swore that morning, Christmas morning, that as long is he was alive, never another idea of him being any different would ever cross her mind.

Every one had sweet dreams, for Uncle Harry had been the bedtime fairy that evening. He heard Mary talking to herself in the kitchen, a mumbled conversation with words he could not hear clearly. He felt it best to leave her to it, so he did. He straightened blankets and kissed foreheads and then retired to the floor of the attic himself. And so, everyone had dreams, although no one dreamed of Mary. They dreamed of the presents they were to receive and the food they were to eat and the merry time they would surely be making all day long. Wendy dreamed of a pirate captain named James who was to come and rescue her from her fates. Poor Mary still slept on the kitchen table as morning made its full arrival and the neighbors rang the front door bell.

Mary rubbed the back of her neck, she had only slept not even an hour, and already it was time to get up. She slowly made her way to the door, bumping into the wall and front table in the foyer, too exhausted to keep her feet straight on their path, and too sore to move any faster.

"Mrs. Darling, hate to disturb you so early, but seeing as how you are already up and dressed," Mary had never changed out of her gown from mass, "there is a man, a vagrant apparently at that, taking shelter in your greenhouse. I noticed him this morning while having my cup of tea. I was to call the constable, but I thought of the holiday and felt it better not to disturb your entire family with the police being summoned. Maybe Mr. Darling ought to handle the matter himself."

Mary nodded, shaking her head, trying to wake up enough to respond. "I'll tell George," she managed before closing the door on her neighbor's face only to reopen it with, "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Ferris, I almost forgot, Happy Christmas."

Mary stumbled back to the kitchen, the same way she stumbled to the front door. Sure enough when she peered out the window, there he was, Peter Darling sitting hunched over in George's greenhouse smoking a cigar and swigging out of his once shiny silver flask, now dented and tarnished. "Oh, dear God, why must it be today?" Mary put her hands to her face shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. "I wish I could run away."

Captain Hook leaned against the kitchen doorway, "I'm sorry, Madam, what did you say? Did I hear you correctly, did you say you wish you could run away?"

Mary turned on her heel and faced him. "Yes, I wish I could run away to anywhere but here. I wish I could just spend the day in a comfortable, warm bed sleeping with pleasant dreams of happiness like everyone always else does. No cooking, no cleaning, just enjoying the day as it is meant to be enjoyed. Let someone make my supper and serve me! I want to have dessert on a blanket in the middle of the countryside without any worries. I want to play chess and play the piano and make merry without worry. I want to sit back and watch the world as it goes on around me. I want to be happy. I want to have fun. It's not fair. It's Christmas! If I could just run away, I could relax and be contented for just a little awhile without having to worry about everything and everyone else's happiness instead of my own. Just long enough to teach everyone who lives here a lesson..." her words caught in her throat.

"...what it would be like with you gone." Captain Hook finished her thought, taking her hand and leading her to the hall closet. "But, Madam, it's Christmas," he offered before turning the knob to gain access.

"I don't care, I tell you Captain. I just don't care. He will ruin it for me, my favorite holiday destroyed for eternity.  The moment Peter was released from jail, here his is - bringing hell back into my sanctuary...on Christmas..." Mary replied, giving a backwards glance to the window in the kitchen from where one could view the greenhouse.

Captain Hook entered into the closet and then pulled Mary forward to him. "We should not punish those you love, really it is not fair to spoil their holiday being educated with a lesson they are already knowledgeable of. How about we make it so you are not missed, but still have all the good fun you so desire."

"Mary, dear, what are you doing up so early?" George asked at the bottom of the stairs. Mary looked at Captain Hook who urged her forward into his arms with his finger, a constant motion of "come here." She stepped one foot into the closet over the threshold and George was at her side. "Mary, there is nothing in the closet. You don't have to hide in there for there is nothing for you to fear with me beside you. You are safe right here with me, in my arms.  I would die for you Mary..."

He lovingly pulled her back out into his own loving embrace and then cast his eyes to the pirate captain before him. George took hold of the door and without voice mouthed to his wife's other lover, "Not yet." He articulated it clearly so that his message was understood, and then slammed door to Neverland shut. "You and that closet, whatever is the obsession? Just a tiny little room with no light, but if it gives you comfort, then I will not lock it."

Mary held tightly to George's warmth and looked up quickly to him also hearing and understanding his message, "No, George, please don't lock it yet. Not yet."

"Sweetheart, you are cold, your dress is still damp! You didn't walk all the way to church and back alone?" He held her by the shoulders and gazed over her face. Without sleep and still in her wet dress, her face was pale and her fingertips were cold. Being the valiant king he was, even if no one else in world knew it, he lifted her up and carried her to bed. He helped her remove her clothes, although she told him it was not necessary, and dressed her in his most cozy winter pajamas. "Oh, George, I look silly," she giggled as he laid her down and covered her to her neck with the blanket and an afghan on top of that. "No, Mary, you look beautiful. Now get some rest."

She argued about breakfast, the hidden presents and the children. "I will make breakfast, and everyone who eats it will clean up after themselves. I will lay out the presents and we will not open any of them until you awaken. Now go to sleep, my love." He fluffed a pillow and put it under her head. "I love you, Mary. Happy Christmas." He ended by kissing her forehead wishing her "Sweet dreams." He quietly shut the door, locking it to keep the children and everyone else -- especially Captain Hook -- out for the morning.

Captain Hook was waiting downstairs for George, his morning delight with his love wrecked by her husband. George entered the kitchen and began rummaging through the cupboards and icebox to begin breakfast for his family. He ignored the pirate captain completely; so much so that Captain Hook wondered after George's awareness of his presence, and of his plan to draw his wife away from her family back with him to the Jolly Roger. He was about to leave on his own regard, until George. instead of stepping through him to the stove, stepped around him avoiding the person that was not truly there in reality.

"Ahhh... Mr. Darling."

Captain Hook spoke loud and clear, "A very Happy Christmas to you, sir, this fine morning. You are up bright and early, and making breakfast, how wonderful of you. Will be playing Father Christmas next? You know, Mr. Darling, the children will be disappointed to not get their presents this year. They have been good, have they not? No naughty ones? Well, maybe just one...or two." Captain Hook danced about George as he spoke finishing by thrusting his head face to face with George.

George held his tongue and went about his business paying the captain no mind at all. "You know, George, can I call you, George? I feel so bad for Mary, poor Mary, no one really loves her, do they? She is a mighty strong gal, I love that about her, her fire, it burns so, you know. And what a waste her life has been, trapped in this house almost her entire life, with no life of her own. All the sacrifices she has made for others, and not one soul thinks enough of her and her heart to do the same. I often wonder how you got so lucky as to call her wife. Out of all the men in the world, you were chosen. However did you manage that?  You must have been very good in all your former life to have God reward you personally in this one!"

George cracked his eggs, and beat them with a whisk. He poured them into a hot frying pan and began to stir with one hand, the other on his hip. Captain Hook grinned at George's expression, he was acting as if he only heard the Christmas carol he hummed, but it was a very unconvincing performance. Captain Hook stood behind him and whispered softly into his ear, "If you love her good man, then defend yourself."

George turned his head and now gave Captain Hook his undivided attention, "And whom shall I defend myself against, you?"

Captain Hook bowed and stepped around to face George, "You told Mary once that she engages you in a game of unfair play. I think you do the same to her. Grandpa Joe was very wrong, your life is not a game of chess, more so of cards, a never ending round of poker where both players refuse to show their hand. And so you go back and forth guessing what the other one is holding true. I have to ask you now, George, what is the truth?"

"Are you asking for a definition of truth, or what you and I already know is the truth?" George replied to a bewildered Captain, who rolled his eyes and strolled from the kitchen. George looked after him, but he was already out of sight.

The children, all three still dressed in their nightclothes and robes ran down the stairs to him in the doorway, arms open wanting a hug and kiss. "Papa, Father Christmas forgot about us, he never left us presents, why not? We were good all year, why would he forget?" George embraced all three at the same time, "Father Christmas stopped by, but we forgot to go to church, and never left him cookies and milk. He said he would drop over in the morning and leave your presents only if you go to morning mass and put out a plate for him in the parlor, so I advise you to get to it." The children bolted to the icebox and poured a very tall glass of milk and took Mary's cookies and placed them on a small plate, carrying the meal into the parlor.

Harry and John were coming down the stairs just as the children made their way into the parlor. "Alright, Father Christmas also said he dislikes dirty children, so you all must take a bath straight away and dress in your Christmas outfits," George said, heading in to check on the their progress. He checked his pocket watch, "We've got an hour until morning mass, I say we have some breakfast and then head off to church. Hopefully he will come back and leave the gifts for you."

George looked at Harry with a nod, "Let's go get you all washed up and dressed!" Harry patted them on their bottoms as they flew up the stairs arguing over who would get to bathe first.

"I'll take the children to mass with John, Wendy and her fiancé. You stay behind and put out the gifts," George advised his older brother before going back to his cooking. The Darling family was dressed, fed and out the door with just enough time to get to mass and find one of the few seats left. Peter, Wendy's intended, gave up his seat to John since they were one short. "I'm not of this profession," he responded to George, who asked where he was going when he rose to leave.

"He means religion, father, he does not practice this faith. He'll just go for a walk outside until mass is finished." George turned his head to Wendy who gave a weak smile before looking front again without another word.

Jane was the one to give voice, "God doesn't care what profession you are, as long as you believe in Him," to which Peter sneered with a nasty grin, "Oh, I believe, I believe..."

Harry unloaded the presents from the attic and placed them under the tree. He noticed the milk and cookies, and playing Christmas, he downed the glass and took large bites of the sugary sweets Mary had created with love. He washed, dried and put away all the breakfast dishes and then took a well-deserved nap on the sofa, waiting for the family to return, after checking in on his sister-in-law. He hadn't done so the night before, but in the morning he kissed her forehead wishing her pleasant dreams.

Captain Hook stalked out of the hall closet when the coast was clear and around the house giving it the once over. Seeing Peter Pan's absence from the house, being stuck with the family going to church, amused him. He checked in on Mary, too, and kissed her lips, "I love you, George..." she whispered from her dreams, "I love you, too, Mary," Captain Hook said for her husband. Captain Hook checked the time on his pocket watch to the time on the nightstand clock and decided it was time to go. Instead of leaving via the hall closet, he used George's wardrobe.

Harry rested on the sofa, sleeping soundly; Mary lay soundly asleep, worn out, upstairs in her bed. Uncle Peter, the Peter of the Past, napped on the ice-cold stone floor of the greenhouse, coughing and hacking through his nightmare. Pirates carrying torches with flames blazing were chasing him down, all calling after him with sinister voices, screeching his name. Peter fled to the beach, and ran into the ocean to escape. "There is no escape from the savage men that seek you." A Pirate Captain cloaked, hooded in black seated in a row boat with a solitary torch held in his left hand spoke from the oddly still waters.

"Help me please, they'll kill me if they catch me."

Captain Hook removed his hood and yanked Peter Darling up and onto the boat with the hook that replaced his right hand. Wet from the sea and frightened for his life, Peter gazed up at the pirate who mirrored George in every way possible, without being the same man. The Captain raised his hook to Peter's throat. "Those men will not kill you if they catch you, sir. They only hunt for their leader."

Peter fell back over the seat in the boat and attempted to stand, only getting shoved back down again to his knees, "Their leader?"

"Oh yes, their leader. He is the one who wants to kill you."

Peter swallowed hard, afraid to ask the next question, as it would surely bring him closer to death. "Who is their leader?"

Captain Hook let out a hearty laugh, filled with wicked malice and rage. "Their Captain, good man." Captain Hook whacked Peter on the back hard, and mockingly waved his hook so close to Peter's nose; he shaved the tiny hairs from the end of it.

"Captain Hook, you've caught the bastard! Good, very good! Shall I gather up the men, back to the ship?" Mr. Smee called from the beach to the boat.

"You are their Captain?" Peter queried, shaking with fear from head to toe.

Captain Hook leaned closely to his face and nodded his head with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Mary slept from early morning until the afternoon sun shone through the front windows and over the house. She awoke to a peculiar silence that she found instantly troublesome when she rolled over and caught the time on the clock. She quickly dressed in her Christmas finest, and ran straight down to the kitchen and began to make dinner.

"There isn't enough time, everyone will be so disappointed," she moaned, speaking herself. Her tears fell as she quickly peeled potatoes and seasoned her roast, throwing it in the oven and starting on her Christmas pudding. Every so often, she would run to the front window and gaze out. "Probably visiting at the cemetery, leaving flowers for Grandpa Joe and Michael," she theorized as to her family's whereabouts, and went back to work, Uncle Harry still snoozing on the sofa.

Captain Hook sliced right through Peter's coat, shirt and skin all the way to the bone of his shoulder blade, dragging him up the rope ladder leading to the ship. Once on deck he threw him down hard to the planks and kicked him straight in his belly. "Who are you? What do you want with me? I've caused you no trouble, please, release me!" Peter wailed in agony.

Captain Hook pushed him down on his back from the begging position he held on his knees. "Oh really, no trouble at all. I assure you that your presence in some lives is the reason I am trapped in my own current situation. Your brother George for example."

"Seems to me, Captain, with all due respect, sir, it is not I but Mary Baker keeping lots of people trapped in their current situations." Peter returned to his knees, holding his hands together pleading for mercy from the infuriated pirate standing before him with his hook raised.

"You speak of Mrs. Darling, do you? Well, this has nothing to do with dearest Mary Elizabeth," he leaned his head down to Peter, and with his bloody hook held Peter's head up by his chin to watch him face to face, curious of what his expression would reveal when he said, "Like I said only a moment ago, it is your foolish, weak, cowardly baby brother George that has banished me here for all eternity."

Mary burned her hand yet again forgetting that an oven mitt was needed to remove hot pans from the oven. As she washed her blistering fingers under cold water in the sink she glanced up through to the kitchen window to the greenhouse. "Peter..." she muttered to herself, taking leave from her cooking out the back door through the snow into the greenhouse. Mary gazed upon Peter on his knees pleading with someone who was not there.

"Madam, this is really not the time or place for interruptions." Captain Hook spoke from behind her. Mary turned on her heel to see him and found herself on the Jolly Roger in the middle of the sea surrounded by pirates who grinned and mocked the lovely lady on deck. "Gentlemen, please, she is a mother," Captain Hook declared to his men, holding his good hand to his chest, who fell silent on his command.

"What is going on here?" she asked Captain Hook, standing by his side. She attempted to hold his hand, but he pulled away quickly and pushed her forward and then down to her knees next to Peter.

"What shall we do with them? Make them walk the plank?" Captain Hook asked the pirates who descended onto the deck for a closer look at the two captives.

"Why should she walk the plank? What did she ever do to you?" Peter asked, turning his head to see Mary, whose head was lowered in shame with her hands already tied behind her back by Mr. Smee.

"She knows why," Captain Hook answered, pulling her back to her feet and shoving her forward to the plank. "Madam, I'll give you the honor of going first, for on my ship, ladies are always first." He pushed her onward out to the plank and she began to step forward.

"Mary -- why?" Peter cried out to his sister-in-law who now stood nearest the edge, ready to plunge below to her death.

"Because I didn't have faith in my husband! Because I believed your lies to Penny that he really was going to abandon Wendy and I and run away. Because I didn't think him strong enough, or brave enough to fight for me." She looked over the edge to the sea below and then turned slowly around, tears filled her eyes that she could not wipe away and she continued, "He was going to run away, but he was taking Wendy and me with him. And I tricked him into another baby, and foiled his plan of escape. We were to take a ship across the ocean to America, and start over there. But with another baby, another mouth to feed, we all were trapped, all because of me." Mary now turned back around and faced her fate and the sea.

"And?" Captain Hook wanted to know it all and would never let his prisoner's life end before their confession did.

"There is no and," Mary answered.

"Please Madam, if I did not know the 'and' I would never ask for it." His tone was full of sarcasm, and, to prove his sincerity, he stepped out to her on the plank and yanked a handful of her hair and pulled it all the way back to his shoulder and whispered in her ear, "God does not forgive our sins, Madam, unless we make a full and honest confession. Hiding something in the back of your mind you know is wrong is just another sin."

Mary tried to move away, but was already to the edge with nowhere to go but down. She stepped anyway, "There is no and."

But Captain Hook was persistent, "Oh really ... It was not the baby you wanted..." he offered her to help along. "Come on, Madam, OUT WITH IT!" With his sentiment complete he released her hair harshly and stood behind her with his brow raised, waiting.

Mary swallowed her tears and stopped crying, she stood at her full height and composed herself, knowing this was the death she truly deserved. "I didn't want to live without George! I almost died having Wendy, so I got pregnant, hoping I would perish in childbirth. I was sure having another baby so soon after our daughter would mean death for me. I wanted to die with John inside of me. My parents would raise Wendy as their own, and George would be free to live his life the way he wanted, free of the wicked witch that I still am."

Captain Hook adoringly embraced Mary from behind and kissed her neck, Mary cried out at his touch, as if his lips to the sensitive skin found there caused her great pain. "That is the same reason I insisted Wendy leave and go back to the real world to have Jane. Surely giving my daughter life, would rob me of mine. But Madam, we were both mistaken on that measure."

He stepped away from her, "And your prayers were answered by God, were they not, Madam? Just not the way you wanted, for who received your death instead? HMM?" He extended his hook up to his ear, leaning over her for her response.

Mary whispered, "Penny..."

But Captain Hook would not have that type of talk either; once again he jerked her by her hair and dragged her around on her feet to face his crew and Peter still on his knees. "WHOM DID YOU SAY, MADAM? SPEAK UP, BE PROUD OF YOUR SINS!" Still holding her by her hair and forcefully yanking her long locks up caused Mary to be tippy toed and then dangled in thin air, "ANSWER ME!" he shouted, and Mary in tears wept out loud for all present, "Penny."

"Dearest Madam, you prayed so abundantly for death, your beloved Penny had to be taken in your place.  And the agony you endured giving your precious baby, Michael, life, was just another lesson up the ladder to heaven.  Tis' a mortal sin to wish death upon anyone Madam, most of all, yourself, simply because you are too stubborn and selfish to accept defeat."  Captain Hook declared loudly.  He pulled Mary closest to him, and whispered in her ear.  "I know as if God told me Himself, lovely Mary Elizabeth, you saw hell while you suffered.  And who saved you from the true hellfire when Penny was gone, Madam...Why, I believe it was your brave and strong husband, whom you thought of as weak.  Any last requests, your Highness, Queen Mary?"

Mary had no last requests, not even for mercy, and thus, she was silent.

"What did your mother tell you the night she died? Did she congratulate you on ruining your own life?" He let go of her hair and Mary fell on the plank, which bobbed from her weight. She screamed in fright, only to be silenced with the tip of the Captain's hook. "What did your mother tell you, Mary Elizabeth Baker, darling?" The "darling" was scornful, more so an affectionate mockery that her correct surname.

"She told me there was never any such plan in motion for George to return me and Wendy there to her. In fact, the last she heard, it was Peter's offer to him to take his wife and daughter off his hands that made him make arrangement for all of us to travel to America. And she just wanted to see me one last time to say goodbye."

Captain Hook nodded, "And there you have it, the truth. That is why your husband beat you, Madam. You robbed him of his salvation and his guaranteed final victory in war with the big bad wolf, or so he believes. We here in Neverland seem to think it is something else unseen and unknown in your current station of wife and mother.  Satan would never have taken such a keen interest in your household, unless he had something to gain by your earthly demise, or your husband's.  It makes you wonder whom Lucifer was really after.  But no matter now, off you go, Madam, to your doom." Captain Hook hauled Mary up by her dress and thrust her forward to the edge.

Before Mary stepped forward, she had one last statement she felt necessary to reveal. "It would have not have been a final victory of war, because if we had runaway, it would have only meant we were running away from the crosses God wanted us to bear. We are grown ups, we can't run away and be saved; we have to stand and fight for what is right and what is ours. There were lessons that need to be learned, you said it yourself!"

Captain Hook clapped at her statement and then drew his sword unseen to her. "Still the wisest and most righteous queen at heart...although I would ask you in the future not to use my own words against me..." He raised it back with his left hand, preparing to send it forward, decapitating Queen Mary Darling for acts of treason.

"No Captain, YOUR HIGHNESS, LOOK OUT!" Mr. Smee yelled running at full speed past Peter to the plank, wrenching Captain Hook back by his coat. He arrived to his leader too late, for Captain Hook had already swung his sword, but hearing the first mate's warning, Mary ducked the blade.

"It seems a silent and deadly war has raged on between your husband and his brothers for years, fought back and forth with malice and hatred all hidden in friendly words and gracious acts of kindness and generosity, all because of you, Madam? Whatever was the attraction?" Captain Hook queried after regaining his balance shoving Smee to his knees.

"It is my understanding that their war began before I was even..." Mary glanced backwards to Peter, who now stood side by side next to Captain Hook. Her eyes deceived her for only a moment, when she could have sworn it was George dressed in his Christmas finest alongside his brother. She couldn't complete her sentence and she blinked her eyes and shook her head, fighting to the death with the pressure that built in her chest, her heart tugging at her, a silent voice playing her head over and over again. It rang out in her ears so loudly that she shouted a response to silence it, "GEORGE WOULD NEVER FORGIVE PETER FOR IT ALL!"

"But Madam, he will. All Peter has to do is ask for it." Captain Hook wrapped his arm around Peter who pushed out his chest with pride that his equal in evil and wickedness accepted him onboard as one of his own. "Shall I read the letter out loud to remind you, after all it is you who showed it me, and indeed your revenge is my revenge, and your husband's revenge is my revenge.  And Madam, your husband, you know him, 'your George', the man whom your heart beats for...it was he who asked me politely to toss the wicked witch off a cliff to her end.  I am without a cliff, but I do have a plank."

Mary held her face straight ahead, and stepped one foot off the plank. "Last words, Madam?" Captain Hook called out to her as the pirates began hooting and hollering at her to "JUMP!"

"God have mercy on me a sinner..." Mary stepped and fell.

"Without a blindfold, how brave the wicked witch was even in death!" Captain Hook offered to Peter with a huge grin of pleasure. Peter ran to the edge to see his beloved sister-in-law hit the water, which she did with no one there to save her. She made no attempt to scream as she fell, but as her body hit the ice-cold sea, she howled in agony before being sucked under by a massive wave that rocked the boat.

"Is she really dead?" Peter asked with little concern as the Captain grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him close to his chest, handing him a bottle of rum. "Yes indeed, the wicked witch that she was is dead." Captain Hook replied smiling happily shoving the bottle of booze forcefully into Peter's hands.

The sky was dark, in evidence that Mary had apparently drowned in the sea; it grew darker and began to snow. A light dusting quickly turned into a blizzard with the ocean below the ship freezing solid in only a matter of moments.

"What the hell did that mean, God and all that rubbish?" Peter asked swigging from the bottle taking no notice of the peculiar weather that left all on board bundling up as if the shift from mild afternoon to unbearable cold was the normal.

"I don't know..." Captain Hook shifted his head back and gave an inquisitive expression, complete with pouted lower lip and raised brow. "I've got an idea, I'll let you go, and you can ask George. I'm sure he knows."

That was all Peter needed to hear, and he too smiled and began toasting the other pirates.

"Now Peter, you must remember to ask George for forgiveness."

Peter walked into the mass of men onboard, laughing and mocking the deserving death of yet another prisoner at the hands of the dread Pirate Captain.

"I don't have to ask my ignorant stupid little silly excuse of a baby brother for anything. He is the one that should be apologizing..." not listening to a word the good Captain of the Jolly Roger said.

"And God, good man..." Captain Hook muttered, as he turned and looked over the edge at the iced seas below.


	52. Chapter 52 It's a Jolly Holiday with Ma...

My Darling Love

Chapter 52 – It's a Jolly Holiday With Mary

"_Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in the conspiracy of love."_

_-Hamilton Wright Mabie_

_Dearest George,_

_You cannot imagine how overjoyed I was to receive your invitation to Christmas dinner. I must tell you, you are correct in your assumption that times for me have been awful. I too feel as though God and his good servants have punished me for my crimes enough. I have been staying at the church mission as I have, rightfully so, fallen on the hardest times. I am poor and destitute, diagnosed with syphilis and suffering immeasurably. I am sorry but I cannot in good faith accept your offer to stay in your home over the holiday, but I must admit I have been by to visit recently. I could not find the courage to ring the bell, although I did peek in the kitchen window and saw your happy home full of children once again, and as always where you were concerned, love. I took notice of the greenhouse in your yard, and that will do fine for me. I wish to be no trouble to your family, so I will hide there until Christmas day. Your suggestion that I drop by as a surprise is definitely the best idea. I just hope that your lovely wife will be as willing to make peace in her heart and mind as you have been. I've always warned you of Mary, she is a devil in disguise, truly a wicked witch if there ever was one. After what you wrote to me of her plot against you, I feel it best that I should come back and help you banish her from your kingdom forever. We are brothers always, flesh and blood to the bone, we are the same, and words cannot express my gratitude at the olive branch you have extended to me on this which will most likely be my last holiday on this earth._

_All My Love Dearest Baby Brother,_

Peter 

Captain Hook reread the letter one final time before crumpling it in his hand and tossing it overboard. He glanced over the side to the frozen waters below. "Did you find the body, Mr. Smee?" he asked, as Mr. Smee climbed the rope ladder up from the rowboat below.

"Yes, Captain, bringing it on board right now. Never froze up like this before and so fast..." Mr. Smee offered to an unmoved Captain who only looked on in disgust.

Mr. Smee gave back a smile and then removed his hat and lowered his head in an act of respect for the most unfortunate fate of the woman wrapped in a sheet being hoisted on deck. "Shall we give her a proper burial, Captain?" Mr. Smee asked as Captain Hook quickly shook his head before the question posed was completed, "No, let her husband do it," he continued, shaking his head as he pulled back the sheet to gaze upon her once beautiful face destroyed by death. "Don't dump her body until tomorrow, Smee, tsk, tsk, tsk, to lose one's mother on Christmas, poor unfortunate orphans those Darling children are."

Peter now found himself alone in the greenhouse, on his knees in the praying position. He rose quicker than he should have, and began hacking up whatever was left of his throat and lungs. Odd that, wherever he had just come back from, he not only felt no need to cough or hack, he had actually felt healthy and refreshed. But now he was in a cold greenhouse with frosted over the windows. He trudged out into the snow and up to the house, peering in the windows. No one was inside or about; he tapped on the back door and then walked around the front, repeating his peeping.

Thank God the neighbors were nosy, for this time when they saw him emerge, they had the good sense to summon the constable, knowing the Darling family had all left for church. The police came and took Peter Darling back to jail. "You were the same one creating the ruckus at the church last night. Now we find you trying to rob a house on Christmas, I warned you, you wretched beast, to a cold cell you go."

As the paddy wagon rounded the corner, the automobiles carrying the Darling family were rounding the opposite corner. After mass, they had gone for a leisurely ride around the city to look at all the Christmas decorations and ornamentation in the department store windows. The greater purpose was to find Wendy's Peter, who had disappeared on his walk, and also to give relief of the children's constant asking of, "Did Father Christmas return, Papa, can we open our presents when we get home?"

They had a jolly good time, and entered the house in a complete bustle of hungry bellies and wet coats and hats dropped on the floor in their haste to the kitchen. Mary was nowhere to be found, and no one noticed, for they were now tasting everything cooking in pots and pans on the stove. The roast was slow roasting in the oven, Wendy basted it as Peter Pan tore a piece of meat from it and stuffed it anxiously in his mouth. "It's delicious, when's supper?" Peter asked, with his mouth stuffed with food in a rather rude and childish manner.

"I don't know and that's disgusting. Cover your mouth. Father, where is Mother?" Wendy spoke up with a frown.

George looked about, curious that Mary would take leave from the house and allow the stove and oven going, unattended. He checked the hall closet, and then the washroom. He scrambled to their bedroom, finding the pajamas she wore when she lay there, only a few hours before, neatly folded, back in his dresser. He looked in the nursery, Jane's room, the attic and elsewhere upstairs in closets and wardrobes before venturing to the basement.

"I can't imagine where she went off to," George finally answered, with the Darling Triplets tugging at him, still holding in the almost uncontrollable desire to rip into their presents left under the tree and in their stockings. "Maybe she ran to the store, George. She didn't say anything to me when she left. Not even a word to ask for help in the kitchen." Harry remarked to George, who stood staring at the ceiling baffled by his wife's disappearance.

"No, the stores are all closed, Harry, its Christmas."

"Yes, Papa, it IS Christmas! Time to open presents!" Jane continued to hop up and down at his feet with her brothers in tow. "Alright, children, enough. Do you want to open what Father Christmas brought for you without Mama?"

They shook their heads, but still jumped about rambling, "Where's Mama? Go get her, Papa."

George found his gaze pulled over to the hall closet. He had closed the doorafter he peaked inside, looking for his wife. Now the door was slightly ajar, with an odd light shining into the hall. "Alright, children, I'll go and get Mama." He kissed and hugged each child before shaking his brother Harry's hand. "Wish me luck."

"Luck, George? Where are you going?" Harry asked, following after the children as they ran down the hall into the parlor to stare at their gifts, guessing from their sizes and shapes what treasures hid inside.

George didn't say where he was going; only giving a small smile and a nod. "Wendy, John and Peter, you watch over supper," he instructed before heading up the stairs to his bedroom, but not before closing the door of the hall closet and locking it. Once in the sanctity of his bedroom he removed his dress coat and opened his wardrobe, in one sweeping motion, he shifted the contents within out of the way and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He felt the back wall of the wardrobe with his hands, solid oak with the wall behind it. He moved his hands around tapping for the hollow part, and once he found it in the squatted position he pushed as hard as he could until the back wall of his wardrobe gave way.

It opened like any door would, and gave him access to the galley of a pirate ship named The Jolly Roger. Waiting for him below, sitting with his head down, next to a bottle of rum sat Captain Hook. "This has become another constant torture, the back and forth between your world and mine, pains me so. Whenever will it end?" the Captain groaned, as George approached him and took the chair opposite him.

"Is it done?" George asked, pouring himself a shot of rum from the Captain's almost empty bottle.

"Yes, the evil witch has perished, thrown off a cliff by the seven dwarves in defense of Snow White. Or was it the dragon that was slain by Prince Charming in his quest to kiss the Sleeping Beauty? I get the two confused. No matter, it's done. I even put my own little spin on it, you know, for good measure."

"And Cinderella?" George sneered, downing the shot in front of an impressed Captain Hook.

"No, no Cinderella, there is no Cinderella here, although I do have a Rapunzel in my bed." Captain Hook leaned toward him with a sinister grin of satisfaction.

"Rapunzel?" George queried, rising from his seat to stroll past the windows that looked out into the horizon.

"You know, RAPUNZEL, RAPUNZEL, LET DOWN YOUR GOLDEN HAIR!" Captain Hook looked over to George who was paying him no mind, still holding his evil smile. "She is locked away in the highest tower of my castle, awaiting the prince who will come and rescue her from it."

"I thought you said she was in your bed." George turned about and replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh she is, good man, quite indeed in my bed, in the black castle, in the highest tower, with no other entrance then to THROW DOWN YOUR GOLDEN HAIR! Rupunzel that is. Although I don't think there is a Prince Charming coming."

George turned back to the window with a simple, "Why not."

Captain Hook hoisted his boots and slammed them both down on the table, "Well George, she's too small. However will he find her?"

"Will she stay that small forever?" George asked.

"No, but there is a spell on her that must be broken. She hasn't grown wings yet, that's always a good sign. I guess we will just have to wait and see. Don't worry -- when everything is in order, I promise you I will have my trusted and loyal first mate look after her ... forever."

"Now I have to lie to my children," George replied, looking back into the afternoon light pouring down from the heavens.

"Only for today, George, and then tomorrow you can be as honest as God himself."

George faced the pirate Captain, who now held him around his shoulders, rising up from his table and pushing him back into the wardrobe in his bedroom closet.

As George started to speak, the Captain, already annoyed at the disruption of own private celebration of the holiday, waved his hook to offer his dearest comrade a warning, "A deal is a deal, George. Anyway, no one in your house will miss their Mama, although your brother might. Be creative, children love a good falsehood now and then." Captain Hook shoved George out of his world and off his ship. "Mr. Smee! Send several of our best pirates to the black castle NOW! I want our precious cargo safely defended this evening. I have recently been informed that Pan has been out and about still looking for her."

Mary washed up on shore waterlogged and out of breath. Soaking wet and freezing cold from the ice water the ocean had become, she shivered uncontrollably and took shelter in a tiny cavern off of the beach. She made her way, stumbling through the iced sand after shaking what -- she guessed -- was the hand of a mermaid that ensured her safe passage to shore. Once inside, she rested near a small fire already burning when she arrived. She ran her fingers so close to the flames that arose for warmth and comfort, she was surprised herself that she herself did not catch on fire. But alas, it was a losing battle, nearly frostbitten, with ice forming over her wet gown and hair. She sank into the frozen rocks, and did the only thing left to do. She prayed.

After only a few short minutes, her mouth chattered so she could not speak the words to ask God for another favor, let alone forgiveness, so she closed her eyes and truly prepared to meet her death.

Peter Darling sat in his jail cell the exact same way, only he was not freezing to death, only hacking to that end. Tired of his continual repetition of "I was not robbing that house, my brother lives there and he will be furious that you locked me away from my family on Christmas," the constables moved him to the dungeon cells so they wouldn't have to hear him. That worked as well as Mary's wet clothes freezing her body, for after only a short while, the only noise heard from Peter was his coughing and wheezing.

On a hunch that Peter may have been telling the truth, a young constable thought it best to take a ride over to the Darling residence to check out Mr. Peter Darling's story. He rang the bell just as George was making his way down the stairs, and it was he who answered the call. "Yes, he is my brother. No, I didn't invite him over for Christmas dinner. Yes, I understand you will have to hold him overnight. No, I don't mind picking him up but it will not be until tomorrow, after all, it is a holiday and he is not what I would call family," George replied politely to the naive police officer outside his front door, not wanting the rest of his family to hear the conversation. When all was said and done, George reentered his home and asked, "When's supper?"

The better question was the one Harry posed with the children in unison, "Where's Mama?"

George sat on the sofa and recounted her whereabouts; as if it were an unimportant detail of the day that he was surprised he'd forgotten to mention, "Mama is volunteering at the church mission today, serving Christmas supper to the poor." He frowned catching the children's saddened faces and weepy eyes. "Children, we are very fortunate to be a family, there are others who are not so lucky. They are alone and unloved on this blessed holiday. Mama wanted to do something special and help those poor souls out, so when the priest asked her to give a little time this afternoon to help out at the soup kitchen, complimenting her on her cooking, how could she refuse? The priest did say in his sermon that Christmas is a holiday where we should reach out to those who are lost and help them find their way back to the Lord. That's what Mama is doing. We should all be very proud of her."

Joseph looked about to his family and smiled, pushing out his chest with pride, "I'm very proud of Mama. And I think Mama would want us to open our Christmas presents right after supper." Everyone else agreed that allowing the children to open their packages and gifts was by far the best way to end their persistent nagging, and so it was. Wendy served Christmas dinner, and as was the tradition started by her mother many years before, she served George his supper first. Next she served her intended, Peter Pan, and went on from there. A much livelier conversation ensued, even without Mary, and where she was in the cave, she could feel her family's contentment beat within her heart. She smiled as her mind's eye gave her access to the children's reactions when they opened their gifts, all but one picked out by George. They didn't even notice the lovely tin banks she purchased special for them, as they were opened first and discarded for much more fun and exciting things that came after.

The family made quite merry until late in the evening, and without Mary there to remind George of the time, the children were allowed to stay up well past their bedtimes, entertaining the guests that poured into the home wishing the Darling family a very Happy Christmas. Wendy was utterly delighted to play mommy and bathe and put the children to bed with a thrilling tale of a brother and sister, lost and starving in the woods, that came across a house made of ginger bread and candy. Harry, John, George and Peter kept company in the parlor puffing on pipes and drinking wine well after midnight. After the children were asleep and tucked in, Wendy cleaned up in the kitchen. "Father, shouldn't Mother be home by now? It's rather late, did you make arrangements for someone to escort her home?"

George looked up from the game of chess John had tempted him into playing and shrugged his shoulders. "To tell you the truth, Wendy, I thought she was home already."

George went back to his game, and Wendy, baffled by her father's indifferent attitude, went to her mother's room. Mary was not inside, nor was she anywhere else in the house. Persistent and strong willed, like her mother, Wendy reentered the parlor putting on her coat, "I'm going to the church to look for her. It's very late, and she should not walk home alone." Wendy yanked Peter by his collar to follow after her, and George, thinking very hard about his next chess move, waved his hand to her as she slammed the front door.

"George, you're not worried about Mary?" Harry asked, peering up from his book.

"Not in the least. You said it yourself, she should be allowed to go out and do her womanly things. Mary is a grown woman with her own mind. Maybe she decided to stay at a friend's house for the night, too cold to walk home alone."

Contrary to his blithe appearance, George was very worried, for Mary had been on his mind throughout dinner and the rest of the evening. He'd been constantly looking over his shoulder, hoping at any moment she would suddenly appear by her own regard. After his match with John, he excused himself to his room and sat on the bed, twiddling his hands. He checked the clock over and over again, waiting with his eyes to the wardrobe door. Nothing, not one peep or hint of movement from within. When he could stand it no longer, he opened it and began rapping on the hard oak wood, looking for the hollow point to gain access to Neverland. There was none, for when George left in the afternoon, Captain Hook not only slammed the door behind him, he locked it also.

Mary opened her eyes and saw an old man in a funny wool hat staring down at her as she lay in a big, comfy warm bed covered from head to toe in soft blankets. "You've been sleeping all afternoon, hope you had pleasant dreams."

Mary smiled, "Yes actually I did, thank you."

"Hungry, Madam?" Mr. Smee asked, holding up a fresh steamed lobster near her nose. "Yummy, I promise you, caught this very evening." He shuffled over to the table and placed the tray down. He smiled adoringly at her before showing her a pretty grape-hued velvet dress, cut low in the cleavage that, as he put it, "Captain chose special for you." He nodded toward the shoes to match, and the lovely jewels she could accentuate her outfit with. "Captain Hook will be in to join you, Madam, in only a moment. He was wanting to bathe and shave all nice for you, it being Christmas and all." Mary shook her head, and rose from the bed first attiring herself in a silk robe that hung on the bedpost. It surely belonged to the captain, for it was quite large on her.

Alone, Mary examined the dress and put it on, as well as the shoes, a perfect fit to her slim frame. Mary looked through his collection of exotic perfumes and selected the scent she favored most, lightly touching it to her neck and wrists. She upswept her clean hair into a pretty bun, and placed a jeweled hair clip in the back for decoration. She preferred a subtle appearance, so she lay aside all the other gaudy jewels the Captain picked specially for her, with the exception of a rather extravagant diamond necklace she was only trying on in a mocking manner, but found it rather lovely and to her liking. She was admiring her own beauty in the mirror, gently touching her neck and collarbone, loving the work of art Captain Hook paid a fortune for, having an expert craftsmen fashion it from his own original drawing of what the diamond piece worthy of a queen should look like, when he entered.

Dressed in his best, a crimson velvet jacket and pleated dress shirt with freshly pressed breeches and shined boots, complete with his traditional flagrant Captain's hat, he gazed at her beauty in awe and amazement. "I must say..." he exhaled deeply and inhaled just as much, "I am in love with you and only you tonight." Mary turned around and offered him her batted eyelashes and her most flirtatious glance. "You are the most perfect creature I have ever seen, a rose of the sea you are, Madam," he continued as he took her hand in his and twirled her about into his embrace.

"You know what say about roses, Captain. Always be wary of the thorns."

She pecked him on his cheek, taking his arm as he escorted her to the table. He pulled out her chair, and bowed graciously as she took her seat. She held her enticing eyes, not to mention expression with a mocking smile toward him as he swept to the opposite end of the table and took a chair. As he flipped out his napkin, he offered, "Wine, Madam?"

She nodded and his ever present and loyal servant, Mr. Smee, who had walked in after him, served her. "You look lovely tonight, Madam." That was all Mr. Smee said the entire night, for the talk of the table was a solitary one between the pirate captain and the queen.

"You were supposed to save me from the sea, instead I washed up on shore like a piece of driftwood," Mary began, "I was afraid you forgot about me, Captain."

"No, Madam, I could never forget you, not ever. The mermaid that brought you to shore should have brought you to a rowboat waiting nearby. So sorry that you were inconvenienced."

"More so frozen to where I was, probably an ice cube by the time you finally came to retrieve me Captain."

"You are alright now, Madam, I defrosted you myself in a warm bath."

After dinner, they danced. After they danced, they ate dessert. Strawberries and whipped cream over a fluffy cake that they fed one another lying on a blanket spread out over the floor. "It is as if we are on a picnic in the countryside," Mary joked, holding the same grin she had since he entered the room. The night progressed, unfortunately, but neither one cared enough to check the clock. After their dessert, they played a game of chess, the pirate captain was defeated after only several ill planned moves. "I told you to beware of the thorns," Mary jested as she put his king in check.

The clock in his cabin tolled midnight as Mary played the harpsichord with a great skill and passion, while Captain Hook looked on, not wanting to take his eyes from her, infatuated by her splendor and magnificence. Mr. Smee hated to interrupt his merriment, but a deal is a deal and so he leaned down and whispered "Captain, it's past the time you was to be sending her home to her husband."

Captain Hook glared quickly to the clock and then to her.

Even Mr. Smee was astounded by the Captain's attention to every detail on Mary. He watched not only her face and body, but her delicate fingertips and long nails buffed to a shine as she tapped gently on the keys in perfection, bringing forth the most pleasant melodies. He gazed at her eyes as they darted back and forth over the page reading the sheet music. He gazed on in amazement every time she moistened her lips with her tongue, her eyelashes as they blinked, her feet encased in a velvet shoe with petit heels as she balanced herself half off the bench with her captivated playing.

"Oh Smee, can she not stay forever?" The question was of unusual significance, especially when a pirate captain asked the permission of his first mate.

"Well, Captain, that not be up to me, you or the lady," Mr. Smee replied, taking several steps back, worried over an impending wrath. But there was none, only clapping and a request for an encore.

"Some other time, I'm out of practice. My fingers hurt from all that playing," Mary replied, rising from the seat and straightening her dress. "What would you like to do next?"

The Captain turned and looked fiercely at Mr. Smee, who took his leave from the cabin as if his fanny was set on fire. With him gone, the Captain hoisted Mrs. George Darling up and over to his bed, placing her down with ease. "I want you to make love to me, like you make love to George." He touched his brow to hers waiting for her answer, "Will you please, Madam. Just for tonight. Make the part of him I carry with me real."

"I can't, Captain, you know that." Mary touched his face to hers and kissed his nose. "Do you really want that, to have to share me with him forever?" He rested his head against her breast and closed his eyes. "Believe me, James, I want to," He looked back up to her with his piercing blue eyes, "But what kind of life would that be for you? I am an older woman who will continue to grow old. You are truly just a young man, made old by living in this world. Plus you know how much I love George; you would live in a constant comparison to him. You deserve the love of someone your equal, someone who can give you all that you desire and be happy to do it."

Captain Hook moved from above her and to a position alongside of her on his back, "I'll never find her, and if it is not you, Madam, then she doesn't exist. Anyway, if you stay here you will grow no older than you are at this very moment -- just say the word. As for your husband, Madam, you would forget him in only a week's time."

"That's not true, Wendy never forgot her family when she was in your care," Mary replied as she took his hand in hers.

"That is because, Madam, I reminded her. A courtesy I would not so willingly do for you." He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it, moving it to his heart.

"And what kind of life would that be for me? I'm not a child, I have lived a long life and made many of own memories, you are me asking to forget all of that if I stay here. Not to mention all that remains unfinished. I promise you, Captain, the one you should be with exists, and she loves you. She just doesn't know it yet." Mary rested on her arm and moved his hair from his face.

"And how do you know that?" He did not look at her, but at the ceiling. Mary touched the necklace Captain Hook gave her as a Christmas present, and then placed that hand on his chest. "You gave Wendy a necklace like this once. Where is it?"

Captain Hook exhaled and pointed his hook to a jewelry box that sat on a shelf out of the way. Mary got up and walked over to it, opening it she found it empty. "It's not here."

The Captain was up in a heartbeat and to the door screaming for Smee who came running at his call. "Someone stole Gwendolyn's necklace, I WANT THAT NECKLACE BACK, IT'S ALL I HAVE OF HER, I WANT IT, SMEE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!" He held Mr. Smee up by his shirt that was ensnared in his hook. "NOW!" he screamed before throwing him down to the ground.

"I know where it is," Mary offered, as he stalked to her wide-eyed. "She hid it in her bedroom in the attic, along with a picture of you. It didn't make sense to George and I when we found it, but the reason for it is as clear as day to me now. James, she wanted to remember you."

"Let us not ruin the perfect evening, Madam, with talk of your daughter, our time together grows shorter by the moment." He pulled her roughly by her hands to the bed and forcefully yanked down her dress off her shoulders, drenching her neck with his kisses.

"Not like this, remember your promise to me," Mary said as she turned to face him. "I think when you look at me, you see Wendy, that is why you crave me so."

Captain Hook touched her cheek and sniffed her scent that wafted from her neck. "No Madam, when I look at you, I see you, and that is why I crave you so. Your essence, dare I say, is quite alluring, not to mention addictive." He pressed his lips to hers and she allowed his contact, "Please, Madam, make love to me, pretend I'm your husband."

Mary was adamant on her decision; she shook her head and backed away from him. "I cannot make you real, I would lose George and you would lose Wendy."

Captain Hook stepped forward to her and she stepped back away from him in motion as they repeated this several times before Mary hit the wall of the cabin. With her back flat against it, Captain Hook raised both his arms, placing them against the wall behind her and leaned down into her, placing his head to hers. "I don't care, love me, please."

Mary tilted her lips onto his, engaging him in kiss. He fell into her arms and they slid down, embraced and lip locked, to the floor. There on the blanket, still laid out on the floor for their picnic of strawberries and cream, they consummated their evening together. An affectionate and amorous interlude that did not make Captain Hook real, for Mary gave him nothing of herself that belonged to George. She did give him the love, at least once, as he had asked for. She felt he was truly deserving of the sentiment of her heart he had earned, "I do love you, James, and always will."

As they lay naked under a blanket in his bed afterwards, Captain Hook, in a pleasant dream of being an existent male in reality, and not just a figment of someone else imagination, Mary felt her bare abdomen. The scar of Michael, once a deeply imbedded reminder of his delivery and her ordeal afterwards, was now gone from her body.

"It has already begun, Madam, you must leave me now," Captain Hook whispered, stirred from his slumber by her weeping.

Mary dressed in her velvet gown, leaving her hair down and disheveled. Captain Hook stood behind her and removed the diamond necklace. "Oh no, Captain, can I not keep it? I will treasure it so."

Captain Hook reaffixed the clasp in his hand and hung it over his hook, "It's either the necklace and I, or George and all your memories with him, Madam. You cannot have both for neither he nor I will share."

Mary touched the elegant diamonds that dangled down, held in a platinum setting, the loveliest jewels found in the world, all for her so close to her hand, all for the taking. "Do you want to be real, Captain?" Mary asked, holding her stare to the diamonds, hypnotic and entrancing to gaze upon.

"Yes." His reply was given even before she finished her question.

"Please remember me, even if I have no recollection of you, let me apologize for that now." Mary spoke brushing her lips softly to his cheek as she squeezed his hand, taking her leave to the cabin door.

"Madam," Mary turned to him as he addressed her by her given title in Neverland, "It is I that should be asking for your memory, for once you are gone, it is you that will be forgotten." He raised his eyes to the ceiling and whispered, almost out of breath, "finally..." He returned his gaze to hers and added, "Allow me to apologize for that now. Thank you for you company this evening." He bowed to her, and she to him.

"Happy Christmas, Captain Hook.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. George Darling."


	53. Chapter 53 The Wendy That Was

Chapter Rated R - discussions of a sexual nature.

My Darling Love

Chapter 53 – The Wendy That Was

"_Well behaved women rarely make history."_

_-Laurel Thatcher Ulrich_

Wendy Darling made her way quickly, not stopping to take a breath, barreling down the street in an absolute fury. Her father was home playing chess, her uncle reading in his armchair puffing nonchalantly on his pipe, John was oblivious, as always, and the only person in the whole world who cared about Mary was her eldest child. "I just can't believe my father, did you hear him, Peter? 'I thought your mother was home already'. You know what he sounded like, Peter? STUPID! That's what. I mean, really, volunteering at the church serving supper to paupers until all hours of the night. God only knows where mother is! What happens if she was assaulted, and is lying dead in an alley somewhere? What happens if she was murdered? What happens if an automobile hit her and she is laid up in the hospital and the doctors there don't know whom she is because her husband is a stupid, selfish fool! Peter? Peter?"

Peter Pan casually strolled many steps behind her, not listening to the words that bounced off of him, stopping to tie his shoe, stopping to peek in a store window, stopping to look at a shiny candy wrapper lying in the street that appeared to be a coin, stopping to yawn, stopping simply because he preferred to be back in her parents' parlor drinking, laughing and having fun. Searching for Mrs. Darling was not fun, and not on his mind. "Hey, Wendy, how about we take a train to Italy, I like fountains and I hear they have really good food there."

"Italy? Fountains? Food? What are you talking about? And a train? Are you mad? You can't get to Italy taking a train. MY MOTHER IS MISSING!"

"Who cares, Wendy? May be she just ran away."

That stopped Wendy; she turned around and stared down Peter. He was a grown man now, but not grown up. He still had the amazing ability to fly, even though his feet were now bound to the ground. Wendy used the word to describe her fiancé many times when he endlessly embarrassed her at every single social function, including this Christmas with her family. "He is a tad bit flighty, that's all." And flighty it was, unreliable, undependable, unpredictable, inconsistent, selfish, self-centered, and very annoying, if tolerated for too long. Peter Pan did have one redeeming quality; he was an amazing kisser. Wendy could never remember ever being kissed so fine and pleasing, and that was the point, she didn't remember. Peter ran face to face with her and dipped her in a passionate lip lock that by tried and true measure normally returned her cheerful smile. But not tonight.

He lifted her back into her standing position, and an unimpressed and rather disillusioned Wendy shoved him away and wiped her mouth. "Not this time, Peter!" she fumed as she stalked off without him.

Peter watched after her, wide-eyed for only a second. "Fine, Wendy, I'll just go home BY MYSELF! ALONE AND UNLOVED!" he called after her as she was now over a block up the street already. "I was trying to be nice and help you out, but since you don't want my help, I AM NOT GOING TO HELP YOU. I THINK YOUR MOTHER IS SILLY FOR GIVING UP CHRISTMAS WITH YOU ANYWAY AFTER NOT SEEING YOU FOR SO LONG!" Wendy paid no attention to him and kept walking. "Hey, Wendy, she's not looking for you!"

The church was sealed up tight and dark in the night. Wendy looked about down alleyways and street corners as she headed in the direction she knew her mother took every Sunday. There at the church, she was not giving up her search. She banged repeatedly on the rectory door, waking the priest and several nuns who came running to her call, very surprised to have the eldest Darling child on their doorstep so late in the night. They were even more baffled when she asked about Mary's whereabouts, "I'm sorry, Wendy but your mother has not been here all day. Indeed, dear child, the last time I saw her was last night after midnight mass. She got into quite a scuffle with a rude and intolerable man. Thank the Lord that the constable was here."

"A man? Was he harassing her? Did he attempt to rob her? She made no mention of it when she returned home last night." (The nun called Wendy a "dear child," but she did not resemble that kind title. She was a grown woman, who had taken to bed with a pirate captain, an incomplete man, and quite a few others who need not be mentioned. She had birthed a child, run away several times, and in most polite circles would be called a tramp, hussy or even she-devil. But to a nun who didn't know of her worldly adventures, "dear child" it was.)

"No, nothing like that dearest child, old lover's quarrel it seems. From her words, your mother gave the impression that she knew his identity all too well. Best I can guess from serving the Lord here all my life and their conversation, a very loud and nasty dispute over your father and their marriage, that maybe he was her scorned fiancé of many years back," the nun replied.

The other nun standing behind her shook her head. "No her fiancé's name was Fisher, yes that's right, Biggins Fisher, he is that regal lawyer who owns all that real estate downtown. Don't you remember, Sister Bernadette? He just donated enough money and some extra to replace all the church pews. And anyway, Mr. Fisher and his wife see Mrs. Darling and her husband all the time on Sundays, and always they extend each other their best wishes of health and happiness to the other's family."

"Oh you are indeed correct, Sister Clare, Biggins Fisher, how could I forget? What a scandal it was, their wedding, complete with cake and flowers and all those beautiful things young brides insist upon, was planned and canceled several times over before her parents finally allowed her to marry the Darling's youngest son. Well, not that they had much of a choice after that he put her in the wrong way." Sister Clare nudged Sister Bernadette from behind, indicating Wendy was the one Mary held within her hidden in white.

"I mean your father, Wendy dear. And what a good man he is, no matter what circumstances were that made them get married, a far better choice for our sweet Mary Elizabeth." The nun took Wendy's face in her hands, giving her sincerest and heart felt apology, "I am sorry, dearest child, I shouldn't have said that to you, God forgive my loose tongue. Your parents loved one another so very much, it must have been hard for them, I remember them coming to first mass where there is no collection plate passed as newlyweds carrying you in their arms. But after all these years, with God's blessings, they have proven even the wisest wrong, not to mention the fools who believed wealth was more powerful than love. You know, Wendy dear; the love of money is the root of all evils. You mother and father proved that it doesn't matter if a couple doesn't have two pennies to rub together, if they love, then they have all they need."

Wendy walked the entire way home deep in her thoughts. "Wealth is not more powerful than love," and "the love of money is the root of all evils," she repeated in her heart as well as her mind. "If you love, then you have all you need..." Peter Pan was a wealthy man; he claimed he had inherited quite a lot of money from his family when they passed on. He had run away to Neverland, and lived thousands of lives, all in the body of a boy before returning to demand his family's money. "My family is rich, I was their only child and they worked their whole lives away. I'm not going to do that, I am going to travel the world without ever having to earn one cent of the money I intend to spend on you, Wendy darling," he told her when they met again in this world.

Wendy had tried so hard not to forget about Peter and Neverland once home with her parents. That was partly the reason she set her sights on torturing Captain Hook when she was a young girl of sixteen. Neverland grew further and further away in her mind, her brothers had already forgotten, and they were younger than she. Reading her mother's diary stolen from her dream drawer in mother's bedroom only proved how tedious, difficult, complicated and horrible grown up life could be. Mary Elizabeth may have seemed happy to her children, but her diary listed a completely different life of misery and rather wicked methods of madness. Wendy wanted to remember desperately what it was like to be young or have the choice to stay young, and so her visits began. And what did she find when she ventured back? She was expecting to see a fattened crocodile still slowly digesting Captain Hook's remains. In fact, she found him alive and well, and waiting.

Captain Hook was still as mean and ruthless in his hunt to kill a boy dead set on never growing up. Wendy took it upon herself to punish him for all his malice and cruelty, for who was he to tell children they should not be allowed to stay young forever? As far as she was concerned, at sixteen and already on her way to maturity, he was just jealous that he was already past the time when immortality and a youthful forever was an option. Not to mention, he was obviously alone for no one loved him. There was to be no kiss to save him, at least not from her – or so Wendy thought - still seeing past the unknown truth of the situation through a child's eyes.

Wendy remembered nothing of this, for that is also the magic of Neverland. Away into the night, out the bedroom window she would taunt him with the never-ending influx of lost boys, and with Peter Pan, still the ringleader of havoc (when not off to gather new recruits,) the battles raged on. That was until one day she discovered something of Captain Hookmany others before her had ever seen, but would never dare talk about. There was in him compassion and an undeniable mercy of the kindest and bravest of hearts.

In the clutches of the nastiest pirates, about to rape the young lady held captive, abandoned by her devoted comrades, who still called her "mother," a pirate captain listened to her plead for mercy as she was tied down on a table bare as the day she was born. Over the cries from his men who were dying to "BREAK HER IN" and then turn her over and show her "IT GOES IN AS EASY AS IT COMES OUT!" because "IT"S BEEN SO LONG SINCE WE'VE HAD A REAL WOMAN HERE, CAPTAIN, PLEASE!"

This grown up man, who held his right by the laws of piracy to go first, raised his hook and said, "Not if this young lady is as unwilling as she appears." He cut the ropes that held her hands and legs with his hook, and then covered her with his coat. He turned to his crew and commanded, "No man will ever touch her, by my order, unless she gives her willing consent."

Without ever swearing to her if she was caught again he would not defend her virtue, he released her safely to the shore with a brief but significant warning, "Wendy, you are not the little girl you once were. The men on board my ship see you differently now that you have matured. Heed my advice, the children you keep company with call you mother, the pirates you engage in never ending conflict with want to **_make_** you a mother. Do you understand the difference?"

Wendy nodded to him, trying to hide the blush that radiated from her cheeks to her entire body. She found it difficult to not look at his handsome face, not to mention his enticing build, for it was not only her outward appearance that had changed. With maturity came a craving for the opposite sex, so innocent at first. But there on the shore, in the presence of a truly complete man, already well beyond puberty, the innocence now altered to curiosity as to what being with a man such as Captain Hook with his attractiveness and strength would be like. He had not changed in the years she had been gone from Neverland. There was not one difference in his face – the age and experiences in hell were all still present in his eyes and branded on his heart.

In a flirtatious manner, which she could tell from his expression he found uncomfortable, she snatched a small kiss of gratitude from his lips. "Very well, you have been forewarned," he intoned, seemingly unimpressed with her gesture, but his actions did not convince her of his blasé disposition, for the simple act of not wiping her insignificant peck away made her think otherwise. She further knew she had made a lasting impression with him when, while heading back to his ship and she back to the lost boys hidden lair, he turned to catch one last look at her. _"A man may hold a aloof air to your charms, Gwendolyn, but if he watches after you when you take your leave of him, that alone clearly states he is interested," _Aunt Millicent's voice sang in her ear, for she had heard that statement just the day before in her etiquette lesson.

Peter and Wendy spent many a day together, and he never looked back when she left to go anywhere. As she was being tailed by her assailants only hours before, frightened for her life, with no happy thoughts to fill her head and unable to fly up and away, Peter took to the air and left her to her own defense. Captain Hook not only defended her, he saved her. "_I want Peter to love me like a gentleman should love a lady he wishes to marry, but to no avail. The only way to make a man truly love you and grow up, is to first make him jealous and fearful that another will steal away your heart," _Wendy wrote that night in her diary before retiring. And so it started from there. She would purposely get captured whenever she was in Neverland in an attempt to be near the dread pirate captain. Soon she discovered a way to pass over Peter Pan and the lost boys undetected, flying directly to him.

Captain Hook would see her fall from the sky, landing at his feet on deck almost nightly and sneer, "Oh no...not again..." And Wendy Darling would rise and greet him with a lovely hug, which was never returned, and chime, "What are we going to do today Captain Hook? Would you like me to tell the men another story?"

Wendy did her best "flirting" while telling her tales. It was always a fair maiden named Gwendolyn trapped somewhere who was in need of rescue from the fearless pirate captain. And always there was the kiss that came at the end. As she spoke of her hero's soft lips and gentle touch that warmed the heart of the damsel in distress, she made sure her eyes met Captain Hook's under the moonlight. Soon enough, a real pirate captain named James Hook was rewarded for his patience in tolerating the stowaway named Wendy Darling who would hide in the cupboard of the galley if need be – just to ensure she was on the good ship, Jolly Roger.

"If you want to be a pirate Wendy..." Captain Hook managed as he yanked her from her hiding spot yet again after already warning her several times, "You are to keep to the shores and inlands of Neverland Wendy, for those are the rules. You are not allowed on board this ship for any reason except to walk the plank!" Wendy interrupted him as she stood and instantly fell into his arms, which he held out to thwart her advances with, "Not a pirate Captain Hook, I want to be your partner in crime."

It was an offer too tempting to decline. Captain Hook thought on it a moment before offering his hand for a gentleman's handshake to settle their pact. Wendy had another idea of the proper way to seal the deal. She kissed him. It was to be a short exchange, but became a long lingering kiss filled with passion that left Wendy woozy and on the verge of fainting. She did, and Captain Hook caught her in his able arms as she collapsed. Wendy woke up warm, snug and safe in her bed at home – the window of the attic left open with a note on the sill that read, _"When you are ready Wendy, we shall begin your lessons..."_

"Lessons?" Wendy asked with anticipation of romance and love, oddly enough, with Peter Pan.

"Lessons in the rules of Neverland, Wendy. There are rules and since you have changed sides, I must educate in the correct way to battle your foes..."

Not what poor Wendy was hoping for with her Pirate Captain, but nonetheless, she pressed on for romance and the jealousy that she was sure would ensue when her plan developed into complete and unquestionable fruition. _"They will both duel over me, for my hand and heart...and what a jolly good time that will be..."_ Wendy wrote in her diary over and over again.

Captain Hook's discouragement of her advances turned in to encouragement of her affections, although he did make her wait sometime before they became lovers. As he put it, "We shall make love when in a culmination of all of your emotions, not just the one you have now, wanton lust." At seventeen, she was ready but he delayed her further with, "Not until you are a proper age, Wendy. I will not take a girl not yet a grown up into my bed ever again."

As love often occurs, Wendy did not know it was happening. She'd set out to win a heart that was not to be taken, Peter Pan's. This became a quest to remain forever with the heart that was already hers. Wendy Angelina Darling fell truly, madly, deeply in love with Captain Hook. It had happened so quickly, Wendy herself was stunned silly. _"Mrs. James Hook...Captain & Mrs. Hook...Wendy Hook...Allow me to introduce you to my husband, he is a Pirate Captain, Captain James Hook who helms the mighty vessel, Jolly Roger..."_ Wendy now found herself penning while she should have been practicing her arithmetic lessons in school.

More troublesome to the tale, still with a "girl's mind" Wendy never thought of the accountability she was to have for her actions. She believed that Peter Pan's feelings (whatever they were) would quickly dissolve, feeling she had imagined them all along. But she miscalculated, for the Pan pined for her often, calling out to her in the night. She should have been honest, not only with him but with the Captain as well. Instead, she chose to turn blind eyes to both, thinking forever she would be in the company of Captain Hook and never more would she need to worry after a boy who refused to grow up.

The virtuous, untouched maiden she was in Neverland at first could not be further from the truth in her own. A few of the girls at school informed her, "You must not let the man you are so fond of and are always speaking about have you when you are a virgin. Wendy trust me, it is unpleasant and painful at first. You do not want him in throes of passion above you, while you are crying your eyes out below him. Take a few lovers; get some experience in those matters before you let him take you to bed. That way when it does happen, he will be overjoyed with your familiarity in nature's way. I even know someone you can start with." They told her this, more for their own purposes, Wendy was lovely, and all the young men of good breeding and proper society were after her. Thinking she would be ruined by a bad reputation, they persuaded her into the beds of many men undeserving of the honor. Thus, countless boys had taken her to bed before her eighteenth birthday, and by her nineteenth birthday, she had all the experiences with every sort of man she could get her hands on, from those her own age to a man old enough to be her father.

Now, Tinkerbell was a wicked fairy, she was far worse than any witch from any fairy tale ever told, but dim-witted and daft just the same. When Peter wept over Wendy, it made her very jealous. In an attempt to ruin her for Peter, she informed him one afternoon of a young woman aboard the Jolly Roger, Captain Hook had become endlessly fond of. "They dance, they speak of grown up things, and they love," she chimed in his ear. "That is why the Captain holds no further interest in pursuing you to the death."

Finding Wendy waltzing on deck with his archrival, Peter's reaction was quite the opposite of what Tinkerbell intended. For, instead of casting Wendy from Neverland forever, vowing revenge and reminding himself why he must never grow up, Peter thought just the contrary. "I must go back home and grow up so I can be the man Wendy wants..." Poor Tinkerbell's only satisfaction was his next words, "... and then I will seek my revenge and kill them both!"

Peter left one afternoon, plans intact. He knew his actions would destroy Neverland and its inhabitants. All died, including Tinkerbell. Captain Hook and Wendy looked out from the ship to the island's emptiness. Only the pirates, the Captain's loyal servants, did not perished in the holocaust of Peter's absence. There was no one left behind but Captain Hook, his crew and Wendy, but only for a moment. "My mother is taking me to America!" Wendy informed her intended, a Pirate Captain utterly in love, and with a kiss and a promise to return, and she left him, as well.

Peter Pan emerged into her world in the City called New York. Far away from Captain Hook, without her nightly trips to Neverland to remind her of his existence, she drifted farther away into the arms of the boy who had sworn to never grow up.

Peter Pan loved her still -- at least, he felt the emotion he believed to be love -- and forgave her imperfections with his enemy by banishing it from his mind. That was, until the night she granted him her favor, and he discovered he was the only one in the bed unsure of how to mingle private body parts together. Poor Pan was just as surprised as Mary Elizabeth Baker to hear what happened when two lovers made love. "Are you joking?" He asked Wendy who was amused by his innocence of the birds and bees.

Her giggles turned to silence when Pan blasted, "You've been with others? You've loved like this before? So I'm not the only one? Well, how many have you loved before me?" he asked. Wendy nodded in reply to his first question. She then went on to admit to both him and herself that she could not even remember exactly how many others there had been. She did have one answer she knew to be true, "But you must believe me when I tell you, I was in love onlyonce, I just can't remember his name now..." Peter Pan, even away from Neverland, still remembered it, having spent countless years there, and remembered the one man in particular he was sure had experienced her that way before he had ever gotten the chance to gather the courage to really kiss her. And he was sure he was also the only man she had loved, in both body and heart.

While they lay together in a hotel room, Peter attempted numerous times to unlock Wendy but he found his key opened the door no further than the opening she had between her legs. There was no heaven to be found within her, for she left it in Neverland, with her James. And as he rested his head to her chest, it was Captain Hook's name that reverberated with the pounding of her heart. She returned to London, and Peter Pan, who never wrote to her as he had promised, returned to Neverland in the body of a boy.

So, for that time, after New York City and the adventure that was America, Peter Pan and Wendy returned with broken hearts that ended there, and Captain Hook's broken heart extended well beyond to his soul. Wendy did return to him after she received an unexpected reminder of him from her mother, and begged his forgiveness for her errors and misjudgments, going as far as confessing the original plot to make Pan jealous, only to change into something else. Now she loved himeven more deeply. A young woman hysterical in sorrow to the point of collapse in his arms, the compassion he had for her the day she was tied naked to a table in the galley, gave way and he accepted her back, for what she was and what she promised to be to him.

Peter Pan was devastated to think Wendy had taken other lovers, particularly when one of them was his archenemy. Captain Hook had already touched every inch of her with his hand and body. Hook knew she was no virgin when he took her to bed for the first time, but being a captain of a pirate ship, with little or no room to talk of previous lovers, said nothing. It never bothered him, and he did enjoy her well-developed knowledge in lovemaking. He never asked her of her others that had received her pleasures, and she never offered. Wendy believed Captain Hook was simply apathetic toward her past; especially after she became aware of certain details of his own past he mistakenly shared with her.

Once she discovered her rival's identity, she was the one who was jealous that there was another in his bed before her. Wendy didn't want to teach him a lesson; although she did make it her sole purpose become the best for him. In her mind, she was in a constant competition with a dominant opponent of the past. Wendy's real world "activities" continued, even after she returned from America, and began revisiting Neverland nightly. Captain Hook made love multiple times to Wendy, and he assured her that she was, truly, the greatest he had ever encountered, and there were to be no others for him. Even so, she went on giving it away in the real world, hoping to keep an edge over her imaginary adversary. That was, at least, until Wendy's most unfortunate episode with Harold Darling, an underhanded blunder that she would never disclose to even her pirate captain.

Her own Uncle, Harold Darling, was her last in the long line of "learning experiences" and the memory and lesson of their encounter together would last her a lifetime, stopping her pursuit of meaningless lust to impress Captain Hook -- already impressed -- dead in her tracks.

It was the taboo that tempted her, not to mention Harold's own reputation with the ladies Wendy had overheard her own mother gossip about with envy. "If there was ever to be another aside from George, God forgive me, but it would be with his brother Harold. I heard he is very good in..." Mary whispered to one of her friends at a Christmas Party years early. She was very tipsy on wine and blushed going so far as to make the sign of the cross over her chest at the statement, silently regretting the admission. But it was that simple statement from her mother Wendy would remember always, for it was something Mary wanted that Wendy knew her mother would surely never have.

Hoping his skills in bed would simply rub off on her, Wendy took the risk and took him to bed. Harry was very drunk that day, and truth be told, not only did he not know she was there; he did not know that his body was there as well. She seduced him easily; telling him she was a tramp from the tavern named Mary who was more than happy to bestow upon him a charity lay, using the first name that came to her mind. She got off all his clothes, only removing her own undergarments, knowing time was very limited with her younger brother waiting in the parlor, and climbed aboard. But he was already out like a light before she ever began her quick bouncing above him.

Therefore at that pivotal moment, when he reached his end, he was not conscious enough in mind to remove himself from his niece. And as mastered in the skill as she thought she was, she always relied on the self-restraint of others to ensure she was kept unexpectant. He left it in her and filled her with his seed, she realizing it too late, as he went limp while she still moved. He didn't moan or grunt or give to tell-tell sign by flipping her over and doing his own handiwork, leaving proof she was unfertilized on her belly. Panicked that she had made her first error, she jumped off and tried to end him by hand, only to find him already complete.

Thus the next five weeks, three of which she was late for her monthlies, were the longest she ever had to live through. With no one to turn to, especially after her own brothers John and Michael had all but disowned her, she turned to the man who put her in that way to begin with. She told another lie to her Uncle Harry, and said it was someone else unknown to him or her parents.

Harry, being a physician, gave her a medical examination in the very bed she feared she had conceived in, and when all was said and done, he who told her, "You are not pregnant, Wendy. Guilt about laying down for someone you have no intention of marrying and have not even brought home to meet your parents, combined with raw nerves that you will get caught, is what is holding up your monthly. And rightfully so, you should be shamefaced about being so loose with your virtue, you are only, what, just nineteen? Relax and try not to think about it. I'm sure you are only to skip a month. Next month it will return, and you should keep it that way. And keep your legs closed while you're at it! Never do that with anyone else unless you truly love him and know he sincerely feels the same for you and has already put, not one, but two rings on your finger. MARRIED WENDY! Do you understand what I am trying to tell you? Wait until your honeymoon and give your husband at least the honor of being second! Or were there others? I don't even want to know. But you will ruin your reputation Wendy sleeping about with men! I won't tell your parents about this ... although I should."

Wendy heeded her uncle's advice and in a few days her bleeding began. She surprisingly mourned after the loss of the baby that never was, confusing her already mixed emotions, "Maybe I suffered a miscarriage, Uncle Harry. Is there any way to check?" she asked, rushing to him the moment after she awoke and found her bleeding returned.

He easily soothed that concern with, "No, Wendy. You don't seem to be in unbearable pain, and if you body rejected the pregnancy, well, dearest child ... more so just your worry made your monthly late. You should be thankful this time it was only a false alarm. You, being in that way by an unknown suitor, would break your parents' hearts and mine as well."

There was pain, and Wendy did find it unbearable, but not because of her monthly, but because of her betrayal. She had deceived Harry by taking something of his that was not hers to take, and she had deceived Captain Hook, her one true love, lying to him throughout the ordeal informing him she was simply, "not in the mood tonight," for weeks.

She wanted to confess it to Harry right there that he was indeed the gentleman who, "should be more careful next time or he'll find himself in trouble." In fact, she wanted to shout it at him. Instead, she settled on, "He was stinking drunk!"

Uncle Harry shrugged his shoulders, hands in his pockets. He frowned at Wendy and replied, "Never let a man put it in you when he's stinking drunk, Wendy. Even the whores working the corner by the tavern know that simple safeguard against these things. And if you want to be a whore, you need to learn that lesson quickly..."

Wendy knew it wasn't his fault, and she felt the same as both Michael and John did -- that Harry would kill himself for allowing it to happen. He deserved better than that. She decided to honor the same vows of sacred secrecy with the many lies she was to hide in her heart, and would take this affair to her grave.

Uncle Harry kept his promise not to tell George and Mary, although it really didn't matter. Her parents were well aware, not of Harry and her scare, but the others, especially her father who had overheard his daughter's name repeated several times while supervising the bank in the same context, "My son's had her."

"When I am twenty one and my parents can no longer hold me at home, I will leave their kingdom and I will stay with you forever," Wendy told Captain Hook as soon as her late monthly returned. She learned her own lessons, and was now ready to make a change, to be a real grown up. This was strange for Wendy to comprehend, but for the weeks she waited in suspense and terror for her menstruation, as she lay in her bed, she dreamed of motherhood and being a wife. No longer afraid of the responsibilities, she now longed for them, only not from her Uncle Harry. "Please God, please give me a second chance with James, and I will never cheat or lie again. I promise." Unknown to Wendy, her Uncle Harry prayed for his niece and her grandfather prayed for his granddaughter as well, although they were not as specific in their requests, "Please dearest God, help Wendy find her way."

She was curiously sad the next morning when she awoke after her prayers were answered and found her nightclothes soaked in blood, for she had offered to God in her prayer, "Please don't think me ungrateful, if You have blessed me with a baby. And If I am with my Uncle Harry's child, I will tell him and everyone else, including my James, the truth. I will even marry Uncle Harry and we will move away to where no one knows us and raise the child together. I will try to make him a good wife and mother to our child, but, dearest Lord, I would prefer to spare him, Captain Hook, my parents and my family that agony and shame. I leave it in your hands to do what is best. Please forgive me, dearest Lord, for my sins against him."

She was more thankful God thought her suggestion -- that of marrying her own Uncle and running further away than she already had -- foolish as the day wore on. She went straight to James as the full moon sat peacefully in the sky, "I want to marry you someday, Captain, and then I want to have your babies."

He accepted her proposal with a bow and an "As you wish, my lady."

To start anew, he changed her name, "Now that you are grown, I shall call you Gwendolyn, it is a name just as beautiful as you." All they had to do was wait until Wendy was twenty- one, only a few short years away. Their clandestine meetings in the night would hold them both until then. Final lessons would be learned, and all would in order for the happily ever after that was to come. And it would have ended happily there, as it should have, but even as they made love in his cabin under a crescent moon with a night sky full of stars, an unshakable force was already aligning against them.

Tinkerbell was dead. Chanting a belief in fairies to her fallen corpse that had disintegrated to dust would not bring her back and all her anger, malice, hatred, jealousy and spite had to go somewhere. Peter Pan now accepted it, and new war with Captain Hook began.

"Let us call a truce. You keep to the ship and shores, I will stay inland, and bring no more children here ever, and we will all live in peace. Maybe we can even be friends, Captain!" Peter declared, handing Captain Hook a literal olive branch he had just picked earlier in the day. Wendy liked that idea best, for she was a kind forgiving soul, like her mother, and she wanted at least to be friends. She wanted everyone to be as happy as she, including Peter Pan. Captain Hook, whose heart had been softened by her in Pan's regard, agreed.

Peter Pan played his part flawlessly. He would stop by and visit the pirate captain and his wench; at least that is what Pan called her behind her back, on the Jolly Roger as they made their life together there. They lived as husband and wife, as there was not another soul in all the world but James and Gwendolyn. They walked freely on the shores and over the island. They sailed away on the ship over the seven seas and back again. Peter Pan watched from the trees with hellfire burning in his chest where his heart should have been as they made love on the grass, in the lakes, and on the sandy beaches.

"I will stay here forever with you, and never return home, not ever," Wendy promised, knowing who James really was and why he was bound on a ship run aground near Neverland.

"You will sacrifice your life here, Gwendolyn, there will never be children, there will never be a home for you, what we have will only exist here, for where here is keeps us from being real," he told her nightly as they danced in the moonlight. "That is unless, you get your parents' blessing, then and only then can we live in your world, and have all that you truly desire in your life."

Peter was uncharacteristically patient, and he waited, days turned into months, months became years, and passed just as they would have back in London. As her brother John was to be married, Peter's master plan fell into place. "In order for us to have a real life together, we must have your parents' blessing. Please beseech them, Gwendolyn, beg on your hands and knees, as I do to you now. I want you to have my children; I want to be a husband to you. Please, you must do whatever it takes."

Wendy listened with open ears and a wishful mind when he gave her his intentions and a glorious necklace as an engagement present. "I would feel braver with you there, why can't you come with me?"

He fastened it to her neck and placed a kiss on her cheek, thinking his words through before he replied, "They cannot see me in your world, they would think you insane if you introduced me as if I were there by your side and, to them, I was not, even if I were. I will see you walk down that aisle, I will be there, I promise. Please promise me that you will tell your parents."

She gave her promise to him, as did Peter, who swore to bring Wendy home and return her safely in a week's time, for they took any longer, she again would forget.

Wendy was set on less than a week, and although Peter lied, and told her she should spend two, for he would surely return her to her fiancé the pirate captain, she refused. She counted the minutes by diligently watching the clock and calendar. During that time, Peter floated around her whispering words of warning, "You will get old here with him, and he will die just like a mortal if he were to live in this world. There are no vows in Neverland; death will never part you there. It is much better to stay there than here. What kind of life could he give you, piracy is not a respectable profession, surely your parents would never approve. They will never let you see him again. They will bar your windows." And so, she did not tell her parents, but she was going back.

Peter tried to tempt her into staying, reminding her of the gentleman from America, but he had already inadvertently burned that bridge. "That boy never wrote me, and James loves me and I love him. What are your trying to do, Peter, you want me to stay in Neverland and then you want me to stay here. I will live in whatever world James lives in, whether it be here or there."

Wendy's suspicions made Peter spring into action and force her to remain in the real world via another plan. "She told her parents about you and they are furious! They locked her away in her room and put bars on the windows. She's stuck there with no way to return."

Captain Hook fled Neverland and went to her, only to find her free, though she still did not inform her parents, frightened by Peter's cautious words. James was not afraid of her parents, nor trusting of Peter's advice. In fact, her delay in asking made him wary of her true intentions. "You had the opportunity today, this day, the day your brother got married, to tell them about us. Your parents even asked after your suitor and you brushed them off as if it was fantasy of their own creation. Before you hid out of fear, and I could understand that. This I cannot understand for now you are just lying to them."

Wendy did not know how to reply, and their conversation ran well into the night. Fear of discovery and her parents' disproval of her darling love were outweighed by her fear she would lose him, the only man whom she loved more than herself.

"_I cannot lose George, not now, not ever. To make this baby without his consent is the only way I can be assured he will forever be mine. So I beseech you, Saint John, as you are the patron Saint of those who ask for silence in their secrets, to hold my confidence sacred and protect it from others, especially my husband. I give to you my promise, a hallowed oath, that if the baby I hide within me now is a boy, I will honor him and you with the name of John ..."_

Taking a page from her mother's diary, and her own as well, Wendy assured Captain Hook that he could give his seed to her in her world, and it would be just as dormant and undetermined to take root inside of her as it was in Neverland. The day after she returned to him, safe passage given as Peter Pan promised it, the evidence of her mistruth was already apparent. From the moment her feet touched down near the shore only a step away from Captain Hook's anxious arms, Wendy changed from the young woman he had seen many times in her full glory -- something he could hold, caress, kiss and love -- to a transparent apparition of her former self. A Ghost or shadowy figure would best describe what Captain Hook walked through, back and forth several times before realizing his simple mistake.

"She is with child, the soul that grows inside of her keeps her being back there. She cannot stay in Neverland or they both will perish. She must go back, I'll take her and look after her," Peter Pan, the wolf in a valiant sheep's clothing offered.

His words were only half true, neither would perish if she stayed, but she did have to go back or as a phantom in their world she would remain. Wendy did not want to leave, "I will die here in your arms. I do not want to be parted from you ever again. That is why I made this baby, to join us as one forever." She pleaded to Captain Hook. His reply was loving and concerned, not only for her, but also for their child. "Think of our child Gwendolyn, you must go back and give her life...please, for me...make a part of me real in your world. Name her Jane, for my mother...If you remember anything in your absence, you will remember that."

Again, she promised to return, and just to secure her memory and guard herself against mistakes she left in her room hidden away the morning she left for Neverland, protected by the same saint that watched over her mother, the necklace of engagement Captain Hook had given her, along with a sketch of them together, she drew herself.

Peter was wise to her plan, and so even though she wanted to return in shame to her parents, an unwed mother to an anonymous father's baby, he advised her against it, keeping her away from the memories of the pirate captain.

Peter Pan took her to a secret place that not even she would remember for the months Captain Hook's baby grew inside of her. True to his word, she began to forget. Baffled after only a few weeks that she was expectant and not married, she believed his tale that she had been raped by an evil man, and he, her fiancé, out of the goodness of his heart, wanting to spare her needless pain and humiliation, was keeping her away from all that knew her. "I know an older couple in London, who have lost their children. The mother is too old to have another baby. What joy it would bring them to look after Jane." Wendy had a beautiful baby girl, a perfect blend of Captain Hook and herself. She wanted desperately to keep the baby, loving it with all her heart even before it was born, and held on to the child with all her might for months after she was delivered, in hopes of swaying her fiancé into loving the baby girl as much as she did.

It was all for naught. Peter urged her on with; "I cannot marry you and raise another man's child as my own, especially knowing what you went through at the time of its conception." Wendy herself didn't remember that it was by her own choice that Jane was conceived, and in the most loving and gentle manner. She only remembered what Peter told her of the foul and horrid assault she endured at the hands of a scoundrel. She believed Peter, having no reason to doubt him. Odd, she never loved Peter enough to marry him; she only loved his money and his willingness to spend it on her. After writing a letter to a gentleman named Joseph Baker and receiving his reply and acceptance of the infant, Mr. and Mrs. George Darling received Jane gift wrapped in a pink blanket in their front foyer a month later.

This was the magic of the fairy dust of Neverland. Not the type that enables children to fly, but the dust of the fairy such as Tinkerbell who disintegrates in death. In Wendy's case, this dust was sprinkled on her as she slept. It robbed her of all her memories of her early maturity, and it allowed Peter Pan to make new ones. She forgot about the Pirate Captain, she forgot she ever birthed a child, she forgot there was a magic place she could escape to and for a time she forgot her parents. It was to be the only and unfortunately for him, fatal mistake, Peter Pan was to make, for altering her mind was easy, but it was impossible to change what was in her heart. And no matter what, Peter Pan always forgot that children are not the only ones with hearts. Grownups have them too, and theirs are always harder and more difficult to conquer, for there is limitless variety of emotions safeguarded within. Therefore, although her she had not one memory of why her heart ached so (for if what Peter Pan told her was true, it should be empty), she found her heart full, with no explanation as to why it should be.

The war raged on, now in broad daylight, all dark sides revealed the moment Peter Pan returned to Neverland without the baby or her parent's blessing. Peter Pan dropped a dagger on deck of the Jolly Roger and congratulated Captain Hook on the birth of his only child, now trapped in the real world, accepted by her new "mother" and "father." To make matters worse he called out, "That baby you always wanted with your Queen, making you a 'real' king, well – her own king, who is not YOU, is raising it as a royal heir. YOU WILL NEVERSEE PRINCESS JANE! And what a lovely name it is, after your mother Captain Hook?!"

Peter Pan also screamed down that Wendy and he were to be married, already receiving her parent's well wishes on their impending nuptials, a lie.

"But I am to marry Gwendolyn!" a baffled pirate captain replied to a young man, flying high above the masts, older but still not grown up.

"No! Gwendolyn will marry me and she will never return to you! Not ever!" Pan retorted, taking off back to where he left her in hiding, leaving Captain Hook alone, the struggle of the heart he had fought so bravely for already defeated, as Peter Pan would always hold the upper hand where he was concerned. The final nail in Captain Hook's coffin. A crocodile swallowing him whole could not kill him; only ensnare him deeper into Neverland. Captain Hook looked up to the sky where God sat watching and picked up the dagger Peter had given him.

_**If the heart offends thee dearest, cut it out.**_

"Solid gold blade, all these jewels and stones you've selected and this engraving. The price, well young man, it will cost you a fortune," the craftsman commented.

"Doesn't matter what it costs. Revenge this sweet is worth every penny," Peter Pan said as he stood in the shop, while Wendy busied herself picking out an engagement ring.

James raised the dagger, conceding his final defeat to the enemy, and in one harsh and relentless swoop brought it down to his heart. That would have killed him, andsent the pirate captain straight to hell, had God not been furious, gnashing his teeth on his throne in heaven. As the blade pierced his coat on the way to his directed destination, a bolt of lightening blew Captain Hook off the ship into the waves of the ocean. Captain Hook swam back to the ship, shaken and disturbed to find a hand extended to him to offer him aid rising back to the ship as he climbed the rope ladder up. Grandpa Joe waited on deck from him; "George and Mary have given no blessing to Wendy and whomever this Peter Pan is, or any man for that matter. They do not know where she is. In order to be defeated, Peter Pan will eventually have to bring her home to them, they are your allies and you must not give up so easily Captain. The game has only just begun."

Peter Pan would never know or understand what it was to love the way Captain Hook did. He was undeserving of Wendy, theirs was never to be a happy union. A blessing from her parents making Peter Pan forever real in that world would not only break the pirate captain's heart, it would cut it out of his chest.

"_**You need no dagger to do that damage, James, for if it comes to that, I will do it myself. A punishment is owed to me for the fair maiden Gwendolyn thievery from heaven. Who better to bestow it upon her than one who made her the villain of the story in the first place? Give the dagger to Queen Mary. You will be seeing her again shortly." **_


	54. Chapter 54 The Patron Saints

_Author's Note: I don't have to tell you - I have a controversial view of Neverland, Captain Hook and Peter Pan. These are my own thoughts, ideas and total fiction of my own creation. I hope you like them, as this is my favorite chapter in the tale_.

My Darling Love

Chapter 54 – The Patron Saints

"_Thy God hath lent thee, by these angels he has sent thee..."_

_-Edgar Allan Poe_

God bless Grandpa Joe, he was a good God-fearing man. A little misguided at times, but otherwise an all around nice guy. In his youth, newly married, he made mistakes, lots of them. At times he could be truly criminal in his thinking. A classic bastard, if you will, rotten and evil, but oddly enough, with the best interests for those he loved foremost in his heart. In his older days, he became wiser from the errors of his ways, and watchful of others. And so, God blessed Grandpa Joe. Without his open eyes, his perceptible ears, his wise tongue and his experienced mind, the family he cared for and after would have been lost in desperate times. He loved his only daughter, Mary Elizabeth, and his son-in-law George, her husband. He loved his grandchildren, Wendy, John and Michael. He loved his great granddaughter Jane, the only one of his great grandchildren he was to know personally, at least on Earth. For that reason alone, the Pope should canonize him a saint.

Captain Hook once said, "All surprise attacks must be conducted improperly." That -- combined with simple fact that, in order to cover a lie, another must be told -- led to the divine intercession of the patron saint of the Darling family. Peter told Wendy of the couple who had lost their children and wanted another baby desperately. She voiced her reservations, "What if they don't want a baby girl? What if they won't love her as I do? What if they change their minds and take her to an orphanage?" and countless other questions Peter Pan's childlike and uncomplicated mind was unable to fathom.

"Write them a letter, Wendy, tell them you want to give them your baby, but only if they agree to all that stuff you want. And tell them under no circumstances are they to change her name..."

Peter Pan carried with him a card Captain Hook had presented him with, "Contact this man if anything befalls my Gwendolyn. He will help." _Mr. Joseph Baker_, the card said, Wendy's last name was Darling but just the same, he gave her the address and she penned a letter to him, begging for his aid.

Peter Pan knew Wendy's parents, but he did not he know Wendy's grandfather. Thank the Lord though, for Grandpa Joe was swift to catch on that his only daughter Mary had set up some sort of odd communication with her only daughter Wendy by means of the attic window. Therefore, being the saint that he was, he wrote his own note to his granddaughter after she went off on her own adventure at twenty-one, "If every you need me, darling, I will be there." Just to make sure his note got to its intended destination, and was not intercepted by the devil, he used his proper title. Wendy picked it up and placed that note in the hands of her lover Captain Hook. He replied to Grandpa Joe's letter, formally introducing himself. Thus, their contact via letters left on the windowsill of Joseph Baker's room began.

The time came when Grandpa Joe's return address was given to Peter Pan when he was entrusted with the expectant Wendy back in the real world. Captain Hook wrote his final note of concern in regard to his intended beloved, and Grandpa Joe gave his word to be on the lookout.

Wendy Darling sent the letter about Jane and her troubles to her Grandfather, as he was expecting it. Had it not been signed in his granddaughter's hand, he would have thought a stranger sent it. She referred to her own parents by their formal titles of Mr. and Mrs. Darling. In addition, she wrote that she was aware they lost all of their children, while all were at that time still alive and well. Saint Grandpa Joe read it and reread it, and then ate it in front of George and Mary, saving them the heartache of thinking their eldest child -- and at the time, only daughter -- was insane. Jane arrived and he, being the Patron Saint of the house, working for the Lord God himself, named Mary and George her parents. "Please, dearest Lord, don't make me write this to the good pirate captain in a letter, let me tell him in person..."

His selfless acts of mercy landed him on a ship in Neverland, and there he met Jane's real father, the pirate captain, in the flesh for the first time. Through his good graces and God's as well, Jane was able to see her father -- on one condition, "**_As long as you are alive Joseph, Jane can visit Neverland, for you are her sacred protector. Children who are released willingly by their parents here cannot not be saved just as those brought here against their own free will are trapped. Those are the rules and you must always remember that. You must wait for her by the window. Once you are called to heaven, Jane will be bound to the Earth and will no longer be able to visit Neverland, for then not even I will be able to protect her..."_**

Grandpa Joe agreed, and waited by the window on the first full moon of each month to assure his great granddaughter's safe passage to and fro. The devil didn't like the arrangement; this was cheating, as far as he was concerned. In retaliation, giving the reason that he had the God given right to punish Grandpa Joe for his sins early on in life, (thereby saving him from hell in the hereafter), the devil stripped him of his congregant mind. He sent him to an earlier grave than God intended. But that was all right, for another rule of the game is that turnabout is fair play, and so (in a measure relevant further along in the story elsewhere,) it was.

Grandpa Joe is not the only Patron Saint of the story, for there was another in Neverland. Captain Hook, however undeserving it is rumored he is, should also be canonized a saint by the Pope as well. He had the makings of a saint; he believes in God and dedicates his work, however undignified, in his honor. He suffers infinitely at the hands of an egotistical and nefarious boy. This boy's sole purpose being to suppress Hook, and to punish God for deciding that being a grown up -- with responsibilities to others -- was far too important to stay young and incomplete forever.

God looked down on James Hook and did not see a ruthless pirate captain who helmed the ship the Jolly Roger. He saw a soul set against his fate and vocation, whose faith in a higher power was proven every night when he lowered himself to his knees and prayed for the secured deliverance back home to their parents of all children lost in the world of Neverland.

Far from dreaded tyrant, Hook's sole purpose, as assigned by God, is to protect the children who still hold within them a desire to return home and mature into the lives that the good Lord had laid out for them. It was he who created the sort of Underground Railroad back to the homes a boy named Peter Pan tempted them from with promises of eternal youth. And it was he who delivered them back safe and secure to the adult lives full of pleasures and rewards that come with that duty.

God watched down from heaven and smiled on James Hook the same way he smiled when gazing over and always to Mary Darling and her family. It was what it was for years before there were Darlings and Bakers intermingled in madness, for in fact the war had already been in full swing for centuries; always Peter Pan brought more and more children to the hell of Neverland, and James Hook always did his best to bring them home. His "mother" as assigned by God -- Jane -- named him to honor her friend Saint James the Lesser, for he was said to be the brother of God, and she believed without a father to guide him in his youthful exile, no safer sibling than the Lord himself would do. She felt her choice was blessed and accepted for without question by God, "James" it was.

God never sent word to the Pope nominating Captain Hook for sainthood; He already held him in a higher regard, for James Hook was an archangel that fell from heaven and landed onboard a ship in Neverland. The reason for his punishment was between himself and God, but even there, he was as wise as the angels in heaven, soaring aloft on their wings. Still predestined and appointed to defend heaven, James first attempted to lure the children home to their loving parents with kindness and truth.

That never worked, no matter how much he assured them they were adored and missed, they only played on in the sun and frolicked away. Away forever. They called him a liar, for Peter Pan moved them about on the strings of his lies and promises of never ending adventures. And James, being of pure heart and soul, finally living in peace without a thought of vengeance or war, even endeavored briefly to save Peter Pan, and relieve him of his undertaking from the evil forces that lingered far below in the never-ending fires of hell. Peter Pan's retribution came swifter and more severely than God's to the courageous soldier James was, who seemed to meet every challenge with the power and an iron will he was entrusted with. And so, while James slept onshore, Peter Pan cut from him his right hand and tossed it to a starving crocodile that favored the taste of angel's blood, shouting, "Next time it will be your heart if this beast does not devour your whole body first!"

He asked his brother, the Lord Himself, for protection and direction, and he received both. Protection came in the form of a pocket watch with an unusually loud tick that miraculously found its way in the unsuspecting crocodile's belly. "_**To warn you, James, when danger nears**." _Rather humorous it was that Captain Hook always thanked Lucifer for the clock; more to taunt him than a true appreciation for something he had nothing to do with.

Next, direction came in a pirate crew that had shipwrecked lost at sea and was delivered to him. They hated children, and that hatred was contagious, even though James fought the emotion just as valiantly as he had Peter Pan. "**_If an enlightened heart cannot save them, James, a darkened one surely will."_**

The tables turned, now Captain James Hook, he became the most feared and dreaded pirate of all who held his loyal crew in Neverland, declaring, "We shall not sail from this place until the boy called Peter Pan is destroyed and sent back to hell!" With his men working just as hard as he, they frightened the children into returning home. Who would want to stay trapped on an island constantly raided by angry pirates and savages threatening the plank or worse if captured? They were a rowdy, horrid bunch of criminals, and every once and a while a few would get out of hand. That was taken care of swiftly and by the correct means necessary to ensure order. **_"Those too violent, or those who do not obey, James, return to me. I will send them elsewhere."_** With one look, those too difficult to control faced the hook and were returned from whence they came.

They were not the only ones going places. Many youngsters fled on their own regard, the happy thoughts of home and their warm beds awaiting was often enough to fly them back. Others who were captured walked to plank into the churning waves of the cold ocean. They didn't drown and die the awful deaths they expected, for the mermaids saved them, swimming them back to their bathtubs at home filled with warm water and bubbles.

The mermaids had always been Captain Hook's secret allies, only he knew of their mission. They spied on Peter Pan best they could from the water, reporting back to him new arrivals and their whereabouts inland. Devious, mystical creatures that swam about in the lagoons, tempting the children in for a dip, they were first seen the night James Hook lost his right hand. "**_You paid with your hand, James, and bought yourself another army."_**

Under the water the lost children were rolled to their death in Neverland, only to be reborn again back in the cozy blankets they ran away from. Peter Pan never suspected their motives, for he believed they supported his quest by their openness to notify him of the pirate captain's plans of attack, revelations that James himself had requested they divulge. They were dangerous, just the same, and Peter warned his comrades to stay far away from waters of Neverland when they were out basking in the moonlight.

There were many others lost in Neverland. Every so often a blameless nanny, maid, butler, step-parent or even step-sibling would grab onto the foot of a child Peter Pan was leading away and be whisked off to the exotic island, only to find there was no sound or sure way back to the window they'd left from. It took Captain Hook forever and a day to figure out the dilemma, and by the time he did it was too late. The grown- ups and children lead away against their own free will, soon grew discouraged and incensed at their confinement. A very important rule of this game was never discussed between the good and bad. It would be those innocents who were to suffer, for they had never been given the choice to stay in their own world or the world of Neverland, and so they were trapped. This was to be the only stalemate of the game, where neither heaven nor hell could agree to a compromise. Thus, those innocents were forced to live their lives in an eternal purgatory where hope and faith dissolved into nothingness. They disliked the pirates for wanting to stay there, and Captain Hook all the more, for it was his fault they met their untimely ends in the night, which was exactly what Peter Pan had told them happened.

When Captain Hook found the means by which they could safely return to their world, they refused his assistance, believing it another one of his traps to send them further into doom, and swore allegiance to a boy who refused to grow up. Those poor souls, on the suggestion of Peter Pan, became the Redskins.

For every child returned home, a child remained. They were lost children that were never found, intent on staying forever young, as Peter Pan was. Captain Hook could not save them, and so they perished to another end, fairyhood. This was a sentence given to the children for their selfishness, the desire to be eternally irresponsible for their own actions, and refusing to face the lessons of life that came with growing old.

God had His reasons why man was born, and He had His reason why they must spend their years walking the face of the Earth until the time of their death, and every baby ever born came into the world aware of those reasons. But still, some questioned and the answer came, "**_No one shall remain youthful and full of life and enjoy carefree days with no feelings aside from self-centered happiness forever. On every step up the ladder to heaven, man is given a new lesson_**.**_ Childhood is nothing more than a temporary learning experience, teaching those who pass through it all they will ever need to know about love, plain and simple."_**

It is much easier to love and be loved when you are a child. Even angels in heaven know all the emotions of man, with the exception of one, free will. They were never gifted with the choice to make their own decisions, and so it was their allowance that those who can choose -- and always choose themselves over others -- should be banished to an imaginary world of stories and fairytales, giving a warning to others who may befall the same fate. For who were they to question God? Once they made their transformation complete with wings and tiny little lighted aura, they aged as any grown up would, without the God given right to be released from their elderly state in death and receive their endless awards for their services on Earth in heaven. After all, as God stated, **_"You wanted immortality, and now it is yours,"_** and so, they lived on forever.

But it seems only the Lord believes in eternal damnation, for the angels eventually granted them mercy. At least once a day, someone, somewhere will say, "There's no such thing as fairies." And then -- and only then -- one is saved, with its sins forgiven; it drops dead where it stands. In this Captain Hook found his favorite past time when not acting the part of dreaded pirate captain. Those fairies, finally willing to accept salvation from his merciful heart, became the first thankful and truly appreciative for his ever imposing presence in the land of lost children.

Where fairies were concerned, the only 'forever' came in everlasting enslavement by Peter Pan. He assigned each of them to a child living in the real world. This tiny little demon was empowered with magic dust. When it was shaken over the body, it enabled those with happy thoughts to fly -- happy thoughts of mindless things of childhood and wishes to runaway from home.

With their jealousy of children still holding a spark of impending maturity within them, and a desire to avenge their own destinies, they whispered secrets in the insignificant crevices of little imaginations, foretelling of the wonderful world awaiting them away from their parents. They all reported back to their leader, the first female child brought to Neverland, Tinkerbell. And she, holding Peter Pan's ear, informed him of all the small children eager to flee the disaster of one day holding a title such as "Husband, wife, mother, or father."

And so they came in droves, and Peter Pan and Captain Hook battled on.

There is a very simple reason there were always more boys in Neverland than girls. Peter Pan did not like girls. Little girls mature into womanhood more quickly than little boys do into manhood. Therefore, in order to bring them, they had to be infants, no older than three or four years of age. Once they saw how lovely being a woman was, and carried around a doll they'd named themselves, they were already lost to the grown up world. It is the simple joys of womanhood and the anticipation of romance and babies of their own that lead them to maturity quicker than boys.

Not that boys don't dream of being men, but boys' fantasies are not rooted in reality. Most boys pick a whimsical and unlikely profession of pretend where they could be prime minister or sea captain, difficult to attain without endless hard work and their sincerest efforts, only to find it impossible to achieve in the end. Little boys want their adult lives to be easy and come without struggle, so most would find themselves sitting at desk in an office or in a factory with a weekly paycheck and nagging responsibility awaiting them. Therefore, with an offer of escape to what they really wanted, how could they ever resist?

From Peter Pan's own experience, a simpler reason there were more boys than girls was that little girls had a reputation of being bossy, which was well earned. They also were infamous for crying when they didn't get their way. They didn't like to get dirty, they didn't like to fight pirates, and they thought the treacherous mermaids fanciful and lovely, and were always more willing to disregard his order, and go for a swim. "Why do I bother bringing little girls here? They go as quickly as they come. They are stubborn and refuse to listen to me, taking the word of a pirate captain over that of their trusted friend."

For some reason that Peter Pan could never guess, the only true emotion he felt, that of sadness, came when little girls captured by Captain Hook, were given soft words in their ears by him as they stood tied ready to walk the plank. After hearing his whispers, they ran at full speed with their eyes closed off without ever looking for Peter who waited below to catch them, **_"Fear not the waters below, you will be gone back to your mommy before you open your eyes. I promise you if you keep your eyes closed as you fall, you will land safely in her loving arms, and no matter what Peter Pan told you; your mother could never ever forget you. Now run as fast as you can to her, she has been praying for your safe return, she has been waiting for you."_ **

The little girls listened to the Pirate Captain, never out of terror only out of desire; desire to know their mother stilled loved them and was waiting. There was something in his tone as the words left his lips that brought those children who listened comfort and courage. They raced down and jumped, ignoring Peter Pan and his able arms ready to rescue them. And true to his word, when they opened their eyes, they were home.

"You lie to them, Pan, and for that you will burn! How can you make them believe their parents would ever be capable of forgetting them? You know as well as I do the seven days only apply to those who venture here! Best hope one of your little fairy friends never runs into their real mother back home, lest you be the one enslaved for eternity! How foolish of me to forget, you already are!"

"I'll show you, Captain Hook, only boys from now on! Little boys won't listen to you! Little boys always hate their mothers and fathers more!"

Only boys from then on it was, and girls were forgotten. Every once in a while, a little girl would make it over, and Captain Hook was quick to snatch her up and shove her back where she belonged.

Peter Pan was right, little boys were harder to capture and send back. They went fighting, tooth and nail, to their suspected deaths, screaming, shouting and holding their ears from the pirate captain's instruction. But as they opened their eyes and saw their parents' glorious celebrations of their return, filled with kisses and hugs, each and every boy got down on his knees and thanked God for all the saving graces in their childhood. "God bless mother and father, cousin Kitty, Aunt Paula, Uncle Robert, Uncle Richard, and Uncle Sam, my sister Ellen, my sister Patty, and my dog Spot. God bless my toy train, my building blocks, my school uniform and my stuffed rabbit, Samson. Bless them Lord, and keep them safe. Oh wait, I almost forgot, God bless Captain James Hook and all those nasty pirates on the good ship called Jolly Roger."

The days passed into years, and the years passed as quickly as days, and it was as it always was, a never ending game of cat and mouse, until one day when Peter Pan met his Wendy. She brought with her two brothers, who bided Captain Hook's time and attention. He had not known of her presence until he had John and Michael chained against a rock, submerged in water at the black castle. To put John and Michael back was easy, it was too easy and that troubled him.

He had arranged for the mermaids to stop in and pick the boys up along with Princess Tigerlily, "I will fight Peter Pan, and keep him busy, as he cannot resist the temptation if I challenge him. You take the two boys home and get rid of Tigerlily." The mermaids voiced their concerns over the Indian Princess; after all she'd been in Neverland for at least one hundred years. "I don't care where you send her, let the Lord God Himself find her a family. It's time for her to grow up..." The plan was already well on its way when he heard her voice, a young girl, not quite yet a woman, but there on the brink of maturity.

Wendy's face revealed to him something else, a resemblance to another he had seen before, her mother Mary. "That is why Pan has brought her here, to taunt me. Lord, give the strength, I beg You."

Mary had been in Neverland as a young woman herself, a few years older than Wendy was this time. It was a trick Peter had played on him to influence him into sailing from Neverland.

"Your Auntie Millie just tells you what to do all day long, how can you stand it, and she never lets you have anything you truly want. Soon you will be married to someone you do not love and then your entire life will be over. I bet she is planning your wedding to that man who spilled punch on your gown this very night, and didn't even say he was sorry. Come with me to Neverland, Mary. I will save you from your fate."

And so she, a pawn in Peter's game of Chess, went off in the night undetected, but only for one night. For that night was enough to win the heart of the Patron Saint of Neverland. Peter Pan flew Mary Elizabeth Baker straight to the Jolly Roger and dropped her down on the deck in front of the dread Captain Hook, now covered in the blood of a pirate who had just questioned his authority.

It was a gruesome scene made worse when Peter Pan shoved Mary forward and said, "Here, Captain, I promised you your Queen, and here she is," with a sinister smirk of his true intentions. There, Pan abandoned her, and there on the spot she fainted, only to awaken in the arms of an angel in his full glory sans the pirate costume and hook.

George was not the first man who won her heart without saying a word, well, in this life anyway. Captain Hook was. George was not truly her first lover either, Captain Hook was. In his bed, in his cabin, they made love under a starless sky. But Mary was never to remember that, for God was watching, and the longer they shared parts of each other that were not theirs to share, and changed fates predestined not to be changed, the angrier He became.

Captain Hook drifted into a troublesome slumber, almost like death when God spoke down his verdict to the uninvited guest hysterically trying to shake her lover awake on the matter, **_"Your highness, Queen Mary, the longer you stay the more likely it is that James will falter in his penance. He will burn in hellfire for eternity for his sins and yours. Is that what you really want? Leave now and grow up. I promise you, if you ask it of me, I will bestow upon you your true love as you knew him once, now elsewhere already waiting to be discovered..."_**

That was to be the only time in her life Mary heard God's voice, and it was His promise of her true love that made her leave, not His voice. And it was her last request as she walked to the plank to her parent's bathtub that made God keep her in the corner of his eye thus far her entire life, "Please God, send James another who will love him more than I, for he is deserving of it. Forgive him his sins and have mercy on him," she prayed.

Peter Pan watched above on the mast as Mary took her steps and vanished into the sea and then laughed while the pirate captain cried on his knees. The words Captain Hook used on Peter the day of their final battle, the words that stole Peter's happy thoughts had been said before. They were same spoken in reverse by the dueling foes the night Mary decided to grow up.

"I know what you are Captain Hook! A fallen archangel! A tragedy! She left you. Your lovely Mary left you. Why should she stay? What does an angel have to offer? You are not real. Let's take a look into the future, shall we? You go to her bedroom window... what's this? The window's closed."

"I'll open it."

"I'm afraid the window's been barred by her father."

"I'll call out her name."

"She can't hear you. She can't see you. She's forgotten all about you."

"Stop it. Please. Stop it. I am punished enough by the powers that be, I don't need you to tell me how it will be in the future, what do you know you are just a boy! I have faith, I am loyal, I am obedient, and one day, I will be real! "

"And still you will be chastised by the God that claims to be merciful, but only makes you suffer more. No matter what you do, you will be too late! There is another already in your place and he looks just like you. I think I hear her calling him! Yes she's calling him! Your lovely Mary is calling him HUSBAND! Cut your heart out, James! Follow with me!"

James Hook, the archangel, the Patron Saint of Neverland, released Mary to her adult life, and God himself as punishment erased all her memories of him. James broke a sacred law he had already been warned of once, he chose, of his free will, to love a Queen not his to have. George was sent to her as she asked for another to take James' place, and she married him. Captain Hook's wings were cut from him, and he was cast further down into the dark abyss with no hope of freedom from the nightmare of Neverland. But, as Mary asked, God did forgive his sins, and had mercy on him, and instilled in him a admonition, **_"The freedom of will and true love you desire must earned, not taken. Cut your heart out, James, and neither free will nor that love will be yours. And as I have told you before, Queen Mary belongs to another..."_**

Where other angels who befell the same fate would have faltered, James Hook stood firm. "I will always dedicate my life to You, Lord, and I will keep my heart in my chest for you have placed it there. All I ask is for your absolution and my penance."

God looked down and nodded. "**_Prove you words true, James_**." And many years later, there came that time, significant in the eyes of God. For Captain Hook and Peter Pan battled in the sky once again, and the pirate captain repeated the strong words that had destroyed his heart, flinging them into the face of the boy who had fallen into the same misfortune by wondering after grown up feelings, with a one addition, "Now you will be alone and unloved, just like me."

It was not Wendy's farewell to her first love, nor was it her thimble of a kiss that saved Peter Pan from his fate, although he would swear it was. "Not only did I take the only person who ever loved you away, your lovely Mary, I get to keep her daughter, the daughter she made with her HUSBAND, who is obviously not you, MY LOVELY WENDY LOVES ME, HER KISS JUST FOR ME AND NO OTHER!"

Now Angel's wings work whether they want to or not, even challenged with anguish and misery. At times when all hope has been lost, they take those who are favored in the eyes of God high above into the skies. Fairy dust does not work that way nor does it enable those it is sprinkled on fearless flight. As they dueled over the skies, the evil Captain Hook was fearless and fought not for himself but for the children of George Darling. God saw this and blew off the fairy dust of Tinkerbell and returned his wings unseen to the eyes of man, just on that night and for that fight. Peter Pan did not lie; God would and had made George in his likeness, his mirror image, only clean-shaven, with spectacles, and short hair. And it was Wendy, John and Michael Darling he repeatedly screamed, "But I won! I won!" for. They were going home to their parents, George and Mary Darling, no matter what.

They chanted "OLD, ALONE, DONE FOR," and he conceded, he was old, spending all his years in the torment of Neverland. He was alone, for Mary had married George, and he made her happy, and although she had seen James at times in her life when she needed him most, he was not the same to her, and she was never coming back. And he was done for; God whispered in his ear **_Surrender into the mouth the ticking crocodile, James, to hasten their escape._** This he did without question. Since none the of the Darlings said it that night, with the exception of Mary, when they prayed, it deserves to be said now being more abreast of the true situation, therefore "God bless Captain James Hook."

Thus, already immortal in certain regards, the crocodile didn't really eat him although the late night snack of the presumed dreaded and wicked pirate captain finally killed the retched beast. Thus, Captain Hook continued his plight, and Wendy grew up and came back, the story went on from there. Grandpa Joe prayed for someone to watch over his granddaughter, as she had disappeared from the face of the planet, and the good Lord introduced him to her soul mate, James Hook, as he was the replier to Mr. Joseph Baker's letter. "She is safe with me, I promise. If she ever wishes to return, I will bring her home myself," Captain Hook swore to her grandfather.

"Keep her away from Peter Pan, don't trust him. He IS the devil," Captain Hook told Grandpa Joe that night on his ship when Grandpa Joe returned the favor of God's good graces upon his family, and saved the life of the pirate captain. Unfortunately, there was not much for the patron saint of the Darling family to do. Peter stole Wendy and he made sure she was not heard from again until Grandpa Joe walked through heaven's gates, and sometime after (for good measure.) He also abandoned the residents of Neverland, sealing their fates. All who lived within that world at the hands of Peter Pan perished. Captain Hook and his loyal companions lived on, for God knew, one day, he would return.

Without children in Neverland, there was no magic to keep the hellfire burning, thus winter befell the ship and its island's shores. And so the good lay in wait for evil's homecoming. **_Be patient, James, there is still much undone._**

Captain Hook never saw Mary again, although he never forgot her either. Mary herself never thought of him, as, from time to time, she got stuck in a little hell of her own making, that he could not save her from. But when she prayed for a savior in the hall closet, God, seeing Hook was not busy, and as a way to kill many birds with one stone, sent him.

"I'll make you a deal, Madam, let me keep company with you so that I am not alone, and I promise to protect you from your husband. Although I must tell you, Madam, mine is to be the easier of the tasks, for I know as if God told me Himself, George Darling will never raise his hand to you again as long as you both still live. And yes, I will tell you about the fair maiden Gwendolyn and our adventures together. And yes, Madam, your husband will never know of our arrangement."

Mary was the first bird and her husband George was the second. Mary had prayed for the safe return of her daughter-in-law Margaret, and her child by her brother-in-law, Peter, named Martine, George asked the same. He also prayed for forgiveness for abusing his wife. He confessed his sins to God, the priest, and the nuns cleaning the church, and to Captain Hook.

"Don't hit her again. I would never hit her. She did what she did to keep you; if that is not a feather in your hat, I don't what is. And above all else, she gave you a handsome healthy son who could pass for your twin. You should thank her. She saved you. If you ever raise even a finger to her again, I will see to it personally that I am not the only one missing a right hand. The demon of your father has not yet been defeated in your penance, but you must let the fiend in your blood go, George, and forget it. There is no other way."

As for the fates of those George and Mary wished returned, Captain Hook agreed to help with that too. "I'll make you a deal, you let me keep company with Mary so that I am not alone, and I will do my best to bring them back to you."

George had two conditions, "As long as you don't take Mary from me, I know you will treat her better than I ever could. I know she is a precious gift I am unworthy of. And please, Mary can never know of this arrangement."

Ironically, Mary had asked for his silence in the same manner. And like Mary's bargain, Captain Hook had the easier part of the deal. Seeing George was giving up something that would make him suffer immeasurably, he conceded, "George, she will only love the part of me that you and I share. And George, she will NEVER leave you for another, you should know that by now."

After his investigation into the whereabouts of Margaret and Martine, Captain Hook struck another deal with both Mary and George, "You have my word that this will happen, as Mary has already agreed to her part in it. All I ask is that you allow me to spend Christmas with her. Not the whole day, I understand she has a family, but time enough that I can make the memories to last me a lifetime."

George nodded, knowing the good captain's master wisdom in a scheme such as this. "Since the most important part of plan will take place in the afternoon, just keep her there with you... Midnight, you have until midnight. A deal is a deal. After this is finished, no more."

God bless Captain James Hook the Patron Saint of Neverland, and children lost there who wish for safe return to their parents. God himself replaced him as Grandpa Joe's watchful presence in the house, for in Joe's death, they were left without a saint to guard and guide them. A fine example set by Mr. Joseph Baker, a pirate captain followed to perfection. And for this reason alone, God bless Grandpa Joe.


	55. Chapter 55 Hand to Mouth

My Darling Love

Chapter 55 – Hand to Mouth

"_If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape one hundred days of sorrow."_

_-Chinese Proverb_

Mary Darling wished Captain Hook a 'Merry Christmas,' and he wished her the same. She gazed one final time at the beautiful necklace still dangling from his hook. "Must I go now, can I not stay, just for tonight? This may very well be the last time we are together in this way…"

Captain Hook lowered his head and his hook. It was a most enticing offer, but one he knew he had to decline for a change in her was already present that could not be undone. "Madam, whom did you name your youngest son for?"

Mary looked off to her left and scrunched her lip, thinking very hard on his question. "Edmund? No, Edmund is son of John and Margaret. Well, I named John after Saint John Nepomucene, he is the patron saint of…" Mary could not think, as her mind was suddenly blank.

"Of silence, Madam. He is known as the martyr of the confessional. Tortured by a king and thrown into a river where he drowned for not revealing the Queen's admissions." Captain Hook offered to help her along, "But that is not whom…"

"How do you know of Saint John?" Mary asked interrupting him, curious of his knowledge in the religious matters pirates never seemed to be bothered with.

"I don't know him personally, Madam, but I know of him. Let's just say I know a lot about those held in a higher regard by the Lord." He flashed an over exaggerated smile, lips stretched from ear to ear with no teeth, complete with wide eyes. "Anyway, I speak of Michael."

"Michael. Oh yes, my baby, my poor sweet little baby." Mary's eyes instantly filled with tears and she fell to her floor in a silent sorrow. "I forgot my baby, how could I forget my beautiful baby boy? He died, and I forgot him. How could I do that? I'm still his mother, even if he lies beneath the ground."

"Because, after midnight, Madam, the queen turns into a pumpkin, and it is already well past three. I assure you, once home, you will remember him quite well." He helped her to her feet and wiped her tears. "You named him for Saint Michael, the Archangel, for he is said to be in the likeness of God. A very admirable name you gave him. You know, Madam, he defeated Satan and banished him and his followers to hell." As he spoke he walked with her arm and arm to the cabin door.

"He is patron saint of mariners. Isn't that humorous -- you being a captain of this fine ship," Mary joked as he opened the door back into her world. "I didn't name him, George did," Mary added as she brushed her lips to his cheek gently.

"I know, Madam, it was his favorite." Mary strolled along back into her world through the fog that descended into his cabin.

"**_Saint Michael is the Prince of Seraphim, above all other angels in heaven who are under his command, the divine punisher of his kind who fail in their tasks. _**Now him, I know personally," Captain Hook said, as he gazed around his empty cabin. He made his way to the shelf that held Wendy's jewelry box, running his fingertips over the name engraved upon it, _Gwendolyn Angelina Darling._ He put it back, and raised his hand high to the shelf above, taking down another case, as exquisite but more worn and older than the previous. The name engraved on the silver plaque affixed to the top was tarnished, but the engraving could be felt under his fingers just the same, _Queen Mary._ He opened it with care, and placed her diamond necklace inside. "Good night, your royal highness, good night."

Wendy walked all the way home, into the house, up the stairs and to the nursery. She dressed in her nightgown and went to bed. She spoke to no one, as the house was asleep, and never checked for Peter. In truth, she could not have cared any less where he was. Had she not kept her gaze straight ahead, deeply entranced in her own mind and thoughts, she would have seen him in the parlor, still drinking the wine from dinner and playing with Joseph's toy bank. George was still in his wardrobe with his back to the wall waiting. He had his eyes set on his pocket watch which ticked away the time, Mary now was over three hours late.

He heard someone come in the front door, but didn't bother to check, for Mary would not be returning to him from outside the house. She lay inside another world far away; he knew her only safe and sure passage back was from a closet, just not the one he awaited her in. She came back into the hall closet, in fact, and as she went to turn the knob to re-enter her home, she found the door locked from the outside. Mary gently tapped for someone to let her out, and softly called, "George. George?" To no avail, he could not hear her; he was in his own closet.

Peter Pan heard her muffled calls, and the bewildered boy rose from his chair, intoxicated, and stumbled down the hall to the door. He felt her predicament was rather funny, so instead of letting her out, he laughed at her and made jokes, while slumped against the wall. So unkind was his drunken taunting of her, she began to cry.

Captain Hook was still standing by the shelf in his cabin with her jewelry box clutched to his chest, memorizing the only true Christmas he had ever celebrated with another living soul when he heard her weeping outside his cabin. The mist that still seeped in from under the door informed him the entrance way to her world was still wide open, leaving him in a predicament himself. With her there, it was impossible to get to any other openings in the barrier that kept Neverland back from their house or any other.

Captain Hook rested back in his bed, and put his hand and hook behind his head. He closed his eyes and thought hard on Mary. He saw her in his mind's eye the way they were intertwined together in passion that night. She, the royal queen, held herself above him and gazed down into his eyes, running her hand soothingly over his face. She held him close to her bosom and made her slow and lingering pace up and down on top of him. In that position, he could hear her heart beat. He listened for his name, and heard another. "George, George, George…" The beat of her heart kept time, repeating the name of whom it belonged.

George bolted up from his wardrobe and now stood, centered in his bedroom with his hands extended as if giving a direction of silence over a mass of imaginary people. He listened intently on the stillness of the house, and heard Peter directly below him, giggling drunkenly. George turned back to the wardrobe and gazed in. Just for good measure, he went back inside and knocked one last time on the wall. Captain Hook jerked up in bed infuriated, "SHE'S TRAPPED IN THE HALL CLOSET BY THE DEVIL, YOU FOOL!" George didn't hear him, but he did stalk to his bedroom door as the irate Captain Hook was sitting up in bed.

Downstairs in the hall, Peter Pan was hiccupping with laughter, "Is that a tiny mouse in the closet, I hear? Little mouse, are you caught in a trap? Beg me, little mouse! Beg me to save you! Say, 'help me! Help me please! I need a grownup to save me!' Now you must say it, or I will not save you!"

Peter Pan looked up to a very angry, real life, adult, grownup, husband, father and -- most importantly -- man, staring down at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get up and away from that door, NOW!" George pulled Peter up by the shirt and yanked the wine bottle from his hand. Like a father reprimanding a very naughty child, George said sternly, "Now go to bed!"

Peter watched George for a moment, standing in the hall before him with his hands on his hips, his teeth clenched in aggravation; he resembled someone from Peter's past. "Hook? How?" Peter mumbled, leaning in for a better look at his would-be father-in-law.

"Hook? Hook what? You don't know how to unlock a door? You unfasten the latch!" George screamed. Peter still stared, still very aware of a distinct resemblance that, even drunk as a skunk, could easily be seen. And then something unexpected happened, Peter saw George's right hand, obviously intact, still attached to his right arm.

"This is how you unhook the latch on the door." George reached to the top of the door, and with his able right hand slid the latch over, keeping his crystal blue eyes on Peter. With the door unlocked, but not opened, George repeated his order, "GO TO BED!" The tone was hostile, and his eyes and expression almost evil. It frightened Peter up the stairs and to the floor of the nursery.

George waited at the bottom of the stairs, mumbling about Wendy's ridiculous choice of a husband, waiting for his future son-in-law to be safely tucked away before returning to retrieve Mary. He raced back to the hall closet and swung the door wide open, and found it empty. He slowly shut it again and bent at the waist, leaning on the door. "Mary…" he whispered, "please come home…"

Mary was in the kitchen; George's whisper was too low to carry to where she stood by the stove putting up a fresh pot of tea. "George, what are you doing, are you alright?" She took notice of his strange posture, as if in dire agony, and laughed suddenly when he fell over at the sight of her.

"Why Mary, you look gorgeous, I mean stunning, you are just … Dearest … I am in awe of your splendor," George stuttered with mouth agape. Mary helped him to his feet and he got a good look at her Christmas dress with matching shoes.

George took Mary's arm in his and led her into the kitchen, "Tea, George?" she asked rather curiously. Although they had made their peace, the last few months had been hell for Mary to live through. She was still very hesitant, not to mention down right terrified of his temper, especially after returning home three hours late.

It soon became clear as day, Mary need not worry over George's fury, for he had none. He kissed her hand and replied simply overjoyed to have her home, no matter how late it was, "Yes, Mary, my love, thank you."

They sat at the table for a long time without speaking; only smiling awkwardly when one caught the other's watchful eye. George wanted to ask about her evening, he knew where she was, and knew she knew he knew also. Mary wanted to tell him of her adventure, but was afraid to speak, for maybe he didn't want to know, so she too held her tongue. Mary subconsciously fell back into her petrified state and looked as if she were a mannequin sitting in the window of the emporium. George, seeing this, felt it his duty to save the day.

Finally he asked, "Would you like to open your presents dearest?" He lovingly rubber her arm and offered another kiss to her hand. Their eyes met and Mary smiled, nodding her head, "Yes, I didn't know that I had any."

"Don't be silly Mary, what kind of Christmas would it be if my wife did not receive any presents. After all, you have been good this year…" He could not finish the ill-timed joke he attempted to make. Poor George wanted to literally insert his foot in his own mouth. But his devoted wife, the mother of his children, also felt it her duty to return the favor of only a moment ago. Mary saved the day with, "I had better not find any coal wrapped up in those pretty packages George."

"No need for you to be concerned Mary, Father Christmas had none left after filling my stocking." On that note, they kissed before walking arm and arm into the living room. Mary sat on the sofa as George presented her gifts. She received her traditional perfume, a very fancy and posh nightgown and robe, slippers, a new blouse, and a vase to replace the one the children broke in the hall. George took his seat next to her and held her hands, looking nervously to her curious face. "What did he get you for Christmas?"

Mary fell serious, "I'm wearing it."

George scanned her from head to toe for a jeweled decoration, finding none. "The dress and shoes, George. That's it."

He sighed, relieved, for Mary's tone was unimpressed with Captain Hook's generosity.

"Do you want to open your present from me?" Mary asked, rising from her seat beside him and kneeling back behind the tree where his gift from her was hidden.

"And a hair clip." George spoke as she returned to his side, handing him a small box.

"What, George?"

He smiled and fixed his glasses straight, hiding a tear that welled up. "He presented you with a hair clip, and exquisite one at that."

Mary felt around to her still-disheveled locks that fell below her shoulders, and mixed in with the loose-knotted strands indeed it was there. She pulled it from her hair and they both gazed upon its opulence. "Must have cost him a fortune. Probably had it made specially for you," George nodded, embarrassed that he had not chosen to shower his wife with expensive gifts as Uncle Harry had suggested. Mary flipped it around to check the markings on it, she held a faint hope it was a cheap trinket and not the real thing. It too was engraved, and it was made special for someone, _Gwendolyn_.

"George, this is not mine, I only asked to borrow it from him. I just forgot to return it. Here look at the name, it does not say Mary. Actually, he calls me Mrs. George Darling," she finished her sentiment with a most tenderly affectionate kiss on his lips.

"That's very respectful of him. Look at it dearest; he must have another love named Gwendolyn that he romances somewhere else in the world. You are not the only one then, I imagine." His smile was forced, as was the blinking of his eyes to contain the tears that continually welled up from behind his eyelids.

Mary gazed at George, so handsome for a man well over fifty. His hairline had receded a bit, and still not one gray hair. No lines or wrinkles on his face, his complexion as perfect and warm as the day they met. It appeared the only relevant change in him were his eyes, his spectacles now had a thicker lens to compensate for the only part of his body that failed him in his adult years, his eyesight.

"George, it should not matter if he had fifty other loves, for I am not one of them. Love is not a one-sided emotion; it must be felt by two people equally for it to be real. He would never put my name on anything, for it would be a waste of time and money, for your name, George, is already written on my heart, and might as well be tattooed across my forehead."

Her comment made him chuckle, and he pecked her cheek. She smiled amorously to him, and he jumped over to her on the couch and squeezed her as hard as he could. "My lovely Mary, my Mary always, my love," he repeated to her as he memorized the look in her eyes while kneeling before her holding her face in his hands.

"Yes, George, I am your lovely Mary, your love. And you are mine."

"Long day ahead of us, I hope you are ready," George said standing up and offering her a hand up, to stroll to bed and sleep for only a few short hours. Mary nodded, subdued by the thought of what the next few days were to bring. So many plots and subplots mixing together, so many secrets and lies that needed to amass themselves peacefully and without interruption in a quest for victory and a final resolution. "When it is all finished, Mary, I will tattoo your name across my forehead!" George offered valiantly, as they slipped under the blankets.

Mary closed her eyes and welcomed the exhaustion that had set in as soon as her head hit the pillow. George was still troubled, even in her new nightgown, she smelled of rum, tobacco, and even worse, Captain Hook. "Are you sure your name is not engraved anywhere in his world?" he whispered to her dozing body.

"Yes, George, I am sure." She yawned, peering through her parted eyelids to see him still in his glasses sitting up. To comfort him further she offered, "From spending this night with him, I can honestly tell you he has only one love and she is whoever Gwendolyn is. That name must be engraved on his heart, for it engraved everywhere else in his cabin. And speaking of tattoos, he even has her name on his …"

Her sleeping state let her tongue slip out a little more information than George needed to know, but her conscious mind set its filter forward and snapped her teeth down upon it.

Too late, George heard her, "Tattooed where, Mary?" He rolled on his side and nudged her from a fake sleep.

"What, George?" she feigned ignorance, but he was insistent, "You said he had her name on his body, where?"

Captain Hook was lying in bed; he had removed his hook and was stretched out beneath his own comfy warm blankets. He had already repeated the plan of attack for the next day to his men and wished them sweet dreams, and he had already said his prayers. There was just one more thing to do before nodding off to a blessed slumber. He pulled his left hand down and clenched his fist. He raised it close to his eyes and opened his palm; there across his lifeline was her name, _Gwendolyn_, in script letters. "To remember you by, my dearest Wendy," he said, closing his eyes and recalling her to mind at a time when she was still in love with him.

Mary was still on her back with her eyes closed as well. "Mary, where is the tattoo?" George poked at her shoulder. The jig was up the charade of her sleeping over.

Captain Hook had the name "Wendy" tattooed across the hairline of his pubic bone as well as on the small of his back above his buttocks. He also had that name marked on his upper left shoulder blade, only visible when the contraption that held the hook on was removed. He needed to be naked to see them, and that was the part Mary was having the difficult time finding the words to explain. "He did not ask you, Madam, where Wendy's name is, he asks of Gwendolyn's name." Captain Hook opened his palm again, already in his pleasant dream.

"It's on his palm, so every time he wants to think of her, he looks at his hand," Mary said, without taking a breath.

"That must have been painful for him," George responded, finally removing his spectacles, taking a more comfortable position beside her. He moved closer to her, wanting her to sleep in his arms. But the smell he found so offensive overpowered his desire to be near her. "You reek of him, you know," George said, turning over on his side away from her.

Captain Hook's stench bothered George relentlessly. He didn't need Mary to admit she had been intimate with him, he could see it in her face. He had smelt liquor and cigars on her before and accepted it, but he could not find the forgiveness necessary in his heart tonight. It was one thing for George to suspect they were lovers, an entirely different thing for Mary, his darling love, to bring to their marital bed proof that his suspicions were indeed the fact of the matter. Hook had asked for Mary's company on Christmas, and George gave his permission for her companionship. Her body at Captain Hook's supper table George could accept, not her body in the pirate captain's bed. And so, to make matters worse George muttered, "and on Christmas Mary…"

"I'll take a bath." Mary rose from the bed placing her bathrobe over her shoulders after undressing. "I was just wondering, does he ever say that about me?" George queried quite rudely with his arms crossed as Mary quietly made her way from the room.

Mary stopped, keeping her hand tightly grasped around the doorknob until it turned white, waiting for the filter in her brain to stop her tongue. Apparently, it was turned off for the night; she tasted blood as she bit down hard upon it.

A picture show played out on the bedroom door where Mary now blankly looked, a show of all the times she caught of whiff of French perfume a whore from Paris wore when George was engaged in his tryst. He had reeked of her; every part of his body stank, and not just of perfume, but also from her womanhood that had dried on his body as well. She was all over his shirt, his coat, his hat, and his handkerchief, everywhere. Mary had kissed him once when he returned home late from work and tasted her in his mouth. That memory alone made Mary place her other hand over her mouth to hold in the vomit that threatened in her throat.

Mary had sex with Captain Hook, and did everything within her power to keep what they did, hidden away, a secret, never to be discovered. She made the pirate captain swear not one single syllable of the passion that they engaged themselves in would ever be spoken to George. She did what she did because in a way she felt she had to. Mary felt she needed to ease him of the woes he had in his life, that of being a day-to-day endless struggle in hell. She could not ride in and retrieve him, a queen on a chariot, but she could let him walk in heaven with her, by unlocking that special door she had within her body.

Captain Hook and Mary plotted their own vengeance with each other that George knew nothing about for wrongs done, all for the betterment of him and her family. Who was he to question what she had done, knowing full well she felt it was a duty? And this duty was pledged to a man who, in the eyes of every living being in the world, was not real. George received pleasure of the most intimate nature with another woman, a real woman. He never hid one single act of his adultery from her, offering her, his wife, proof on a silver platter of all his wrongs.

Mary bathed each and every time she returned from the company of Captain Hook, no matter what they did. A majority of the time they only conversed about her life or his, the world around them, and the battles they wished to engage others in. Rarely, and only when Mary could be absolutely certain she was alone in the house with enough time, they did as George suspected and performed the act of intercourse in an all too brief interlude. "To relieve stress, Madam, yours and mine." Afterwards, Mary always bathed. She removed whatever she wore and soaked it in hot water to kill the nonexistent smell of an imaginary pirate captain.

George and Mary made love without cautions, because Mary was no longer able to conceive, and they made love that way since the time after Michael's birth many years before. Always, when they were finished, the precious liquid that George left inside of her that made a baby would slowly slip out. She could feel his wetness that came from her as she lay in bed, and it still trickled enough to dampen her undergarments when she dressed the morning after.

Captain Hook finished himself in Mary as well, but unlike George, whose pace changed as he jerked erratically into her, sending forth the warm liquid whether she had reached completion or not, always marking the end of their intermingling, Captain Hook held his motion the same throughout. As Mary climaxed, so did he. No erratic jerking forward, just an intensified wave of newness and ultimate bliss that splashed over the both of them.

"Did you finish?" Mary had to ask him, for there was not one drop of anything other than her own natural lubrication moistening her womanhood.

"Of course, Madam, couldn't you tell?" Mary questioned Captain Hook further to the point, which was given, "Madam, even in Neverland, I am not real."

It was the realness of George that Mary preferred, knowing he left behind something in her that stayed long after he was gone from her body.

Captain Hook was not real and the French whore was. So real, in fact, it was still a question in the back of her mind whether or not George fathered her a child that never was. That made it very real to Mary. She was still standing with one hand on the door knob and another on her mouth when George spoke up again only adding insult to Mary's injury, "I hope when you are with him, he doesn't…well, I hope you don't allow him to…you know…"

He exhaled and coughed out the last part in rushed words, more to get another unnecessary affirmation of Mary's devotion to him. Mary did not respond, so he repeated the part she had not heard now in a whispered whiny tone, twiddling with his hands "I hope you don't allow him to leave his seed inside of you. That should be something you only allow your husband to do." George stared anxiously down, waiting for her words of encouragement that never came.

Mary had hoped and prayed that while George had banged away on another that he would have to good sense to not leave his seed inside of her, but he didn't. He gave away the part of himself that only belonged to his wife on a fragile and naïve reassurance from a woman of loose virtue. If he hadn't, there would not be that lingering question of paternity. George could swear up and down on a stack of Bibles that the baby was not his, and truly even God knew it wasn't. But to Mary, that did not change the fact that had Peter Darling been only a little wiser and less greedy for greatness in victory, he would have ruled both George and her family forever.

Mary opened the door and slammed it behind herself on the way to the washroom. She ran the hottest water she could stand and got in. The light of dawn had already begun to shine in through the windows and Mary was still in her bath. She scrubbed every part of her body until it was tender to the touch. She stood with a towel and patted herself dry, reaffixing her robe and returning to bed. She scoured her face, rubbing it with a dry washcloth, and now it was red and chafed.

Mary wanted desperately to make one specific comment of rebuke to her husband. She wanted at that very moment as she entered back into their bedchamber to throw something unknown and out of mind to him and all others right in his face. Offer it up on a silver platter for everyone in the world to see. A secret that would be branded not only in the back of his mind, but also in his heart forever. But, just as she was about to put it into words, she thought of the other involved. An innocent who would be punished for his actions he had done with the best intentions. Feeling it foul to crucify a blameless comrade in the battle, not to mention, for all that was to come; George and Mary needed to be a united front, unbreakable in their alliance. Thus, Mary remained silent.

And so Mary climbed into bed with her husband and rolled over to her side without ever muttering a word. George laid himself alongside of her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer into his chest. "I'm sorry to insult you in that way, Mary. I know you would never go to bed with another man. Please forgive me."

Mary needed to forgive herself first, which was easy. Captain Hook was not another man. To be another man, he would first have to be a real. The other he didn't know about, and after that night, she was sure he would go to his grave believing he was the only one. Mary, the loving wife and devoted mother, would make sure of that. Therefore she embraced him back, turning to him for a kiss. "Make love to me, George, please. I want you and only you forever."

George returned her kiss, sliding her gown down off her body with his hands as his mouth was in motion. He shifted onto her body and began his normal seduction. Moaning and groaning of two lovers intermingled soaked into the walls of the nursery where Wendy slept, alone in her bed. She listened to her parents engaged in passion and closed her eyes …

Captain Hook sat at his desk reading over her journal, the makings of her novel, a work in progress. With quill in hand he corrected her grammar and errors in spelling, deep in concentration. The hour grew late, and Wendy lay on his bed resting her head on his soft pillow. She saw his hand move about on the page while his hook held down the paper without ever tearing a single sheet of parchment. He rubbed his eyes and moved the hair that fell in his face as he worked, casting his eyes over to the bed and his sleeping beauty waiting for him. Wendy knew he was tired, drained, done for, at least for the night, she supposed. He rested back in his chair, such a sad face; it was painful for Wendy to gaze upon.

She rose from the bed and strolled to him, taking a seat directly in front of him as he still sat in his chair. He leaned his head into her middle, and she began to gently stroke her hands through his long locks. "Must you leave in the morning, Gwendolyn? I will be lost without you," he mumbled, reveling in her warmth. "It will only be for a few days, James, I have to see my brother married. I will return, I promise."

He gazed up to her, she moving her hands to touch his cheek. He took her hand in his own and kissed it. "James, what is it?" He shook his head, staring off past her.

"Nothing, Gwendolyn." He pecked her cheek, rising from his seat, leaving her leaning on the desk. He dressed himself in his coat and headed for the door to the cabin, out to the deck.

"You are not coming to bed?" Wendy asked, turning about to see him go.

"No Gwendolyn, not tonight." He blew her a kiss from his mouth, put his hand on the doorknob, and left without another word.

Wendy, asleep in the nursery, called out to him… "No James, don't leave me … Hold me … come back to bed … hold me …"


	56. Chapter 56 Found Fates

My Darling Love

Chapter 56 – Found Fates

"_Cowards die many times before their deaths._

_The valiant never taste of death but once."_

_-William Shakespeare_

Wendy awoke in bed late in the morning. She was not alone under the blankets, a little body that warmed the sheets rested beside her. Sometime in the night, Jane crawled in next to her for comfort. Wendy rolled on her side and ran her hand down the beautiful child's face. A resemblance of sorts Wendy saw in her that tugged at her heart so, although she could not figure out why. Jane was so dissimilar to all the other Darling children. Wendy was sure Jane was at least seven, but still she was a very tiny child, reminiscent of a guardian angel Wendy had seen in a painting once. She was very short, skinny and petite with the facial appearance of a miniaturized adult, complete with crystal blue eyes and long thick locks of glorious night, shiny and soft. The first time Wendy cast her eyes on Jane, she checked the child's back expecting to see little wings protruding from her.

She was drawn to the child, of all her siblings, and as long as Wendy still lived, Jane would always be her favorite.

"I'm sorry, Wendy, I caught a chill I think, I'm just so cold. I heard you crying and I thought you would like company, plus his snoring was bothering me," Jane said as she opened her eyes and gave a tremendous yawn. She meant Peter, who was lying on his back with his mouth open making a very unappealing sound, sleeping off his intoxication.

"He'll probably sleep the whole day away. What do you want to do today, Jane, you know it will be just you and I," Wendy whispered.

"What about Edmund and Joseph? Can't they come? It's no fun without them," Jane asked, looking over her shoulder at her brothers, still slumbering.

"Oh, I forgot about them. Yes, they can come."

"Goody, let's go sledding in the park, or maybe skating." Wendy thought that was a fine idea, and took it upon herself to wake the boys and dress the children. With them waiting impatiently by the front door, ready to go off on an adventure with their sister Wendy, she knocked on her parent's door to inform them of their plans, which would most likely leave them out of the house for the entire day.

"And what of your fiancé?" Mary murmured, still groggy with sleep.

"He was drunk last night when he stumbled into bed, he will sleep for the whole day, as he always does when he takes to the bottle."

Mary opened her eyes wide and rubbed her face, checking the clock. With only a few hours of sleep after her active night, she was still exhausted. "Is he a drinker Wendy? You should not marry a man who drinks heavily."

Wendy lowered her head, ashamed she had to defend her intended yet again, "He only drinks on special occasions."

Mary slowly blinked her eyes and shook her head.

"If he should happen to wake up before supper, tell him we are heading to the park after breakfast for some sledding." Wendy asked politely.

George spoke up from his side of the bed, as he had been listening to the conversation, and offered some money to his eldest child, "No father, I have Peter's money with me. He has plenty, his family is very wealthy you know."

"We know, Wendy, your father told me, you've told him just that over a hundred times. What do his parents do for a living?" Mary was lying on her stomach with her head resting on the pillow facing Wendy. She did not move from that position, not having the will or the desire to. It was obvious his wealth did not impress her parents in the slightest.

"I don't know mother, I believe his parents are deceased. He inherited his wealth from a multitude of relatives, or something like that. I'm not that clear on the details," Wendy answered still kneeling down by her mother.

"If you wish to marry him and spend the rest of your life as his wife and mother to his children, you should be crystal clear on all the details, Wendy. Does he have a profession?"

"Profession? Whatever do you mean mother?" Wendy looked quizzically at her. Her parents had never engaged their children in lengthy discussions in their bedroom, for that room was private.

"What does your young man do for a living, I mean how will he support you and your children?"

Mary had her eyes closed, yawning every time she finished her words. "He doesn't have to work mother, he is rich," Wendy told her. "He's never held a job in his life!"

Wendy smiled, knowing she sounded as ridiculous as her explanation. She didn't need her mother's next statement, as she was well aware of it herself, "Wealth in money alone does not a rich man make, having a profession helps a man who wishes to have a wife and children learn responsibility. It is poor form -- even for a gentleman with limitless amounts money -- to never have worked for someone else before. How else can he gain the skill of sacrificing for the betterment of his family?"

"The King is rich and he doesn't work," Wendy added, defending Peter.

"Wendy, the King of England works for his country and all those who reside within it, you silly girl," George now said over Mary, who was just about to make the same observation. "We will have to talk on this later, your mother and I are very tired and want to sleep in this morning."

Wendy took her leave of the their bedroom, closing the door behind herself. "I forgot to ask mother where she was last night," she shook her head, making her way down the stairs.

She took the children straight out into the cold snow, and together they trudged all the way to the park, jumping for joy to be out in the world together, uninterrupted by grown-ups for the entire day.

"Mary, what do you know of this Peter?" George asked his wife, rolling back over on his side.

"Enough to know he is not the right man for Wendy, I don't care how rich he thinks he is," Mary murmured, closing her eyes and surrendering to sleep.

Peter Darling sat in his jail cell, George sent Harry to retrieve him and take him back to John's flat. John was not there, having spent the night at his lady friend's home, so all was quiet when they arrived. "I thought I was going to George's house, he will be expecting me, I'm sure," he snarled at his brother Harry, in his eyes, still the drunk. "You know, Harold, you killing that boy you were operating on killed our mother." Another useless bit of fabrication Peter had become infamous for.

"Oh really, I thought you keeping that poor ill-fated child around for your own perverted sexual indulgences was what sent mother to the grave," Harry retorted, causing Peter to laugh and demand a hot meal, ending their conversation with, "I'll be expecting John to thank me for training his wife right. For I taught her everything she knows. As a matter of fact dearest brother, I think you owe me a 'thank you' as well. You did marry her didn't you? Oh that's right, she divorced you for being a drunk…wasted your entire life to drink, lost your practice and everything else of value and merit...fool."

"I'm not the one living in the poor house, Peter. Oh, that's right, it's not a poor house, it's a back alley…" Harry replied as he shoved past his estranged brother. Peter rested his legs up on the coffee table, sitting back on the sofa. Harry took a seat across from him with open paper in hand scanning the headlines. Peter could not help but laugh at his brother, so he did. Harry raised his eyes over the news, then returned them to his article of interest and shook his head. "You know, Harry, Margaret told me this really funny story," Peter began, not snagging even a second glance from Harry. "She said that Wendy and you were quite a hot item a few years back."

"Who?" Harry asked, still not giving his brother his attention.

"You know, Harold, Wendy, George and Mary's daughter." Peter sneered her parent's names, their marriage a painful reminder to Peter of the family he felt George stole from him. "Now mind you I had my own plans for dearest Wendy, but Margaret said you got there first. So I just figured, ah, if you had at her, why bother? Although…now that I think about it, you did have at my Margaret."

Harry looked up at his brother for a moment with an expression of absolute loathing. "I never 'had at' Margaret, or my niece Wendy," he corrected before returning to his newspaper shaking his head while Peter chuckled, "Too bad, Margaret's quite good for being so young! And you are either fibbing or just being modest, Harold, you did screw Wendy…and I know that is just as true as the day is long!"

Without giving Peter a shred of his attention, Harry offhandedly remarked, "Peter, my dearest brother, you have a foul mouth, a perverted mind and absolutely no heart in that decrepit dying hulk you call a body. You are loathsome, repulsive and utterly indecent when you tell your lies and untruths. That is why no one believes a word that comes out of the hole in your face. It's a wonder you are actually able to walk about breathing, let alone living. I'm still quite skilled as a surgeon; I do dabble now and again. If you would like me to do everyone else in the world a favor I would be more than happy to remove your tongue…free of charge." Harry glanced to Peter with a grin, "Hum? Peter?"

"Hmph, well at least I didn't plow my own niece," Peter retorted hacking and coughing up vile waste.

"But you think about it, Peter, you want to…and given the chance, you would have. I, on the other hand, have never brought my own niece, Wendy, into my personal thoughts or my bed. Because, unlike you, I am not a filthy beast!" Harry replied, still reading his paper.

Their nasty exchange was about to grow nastier as Peter threw out for good measure, "I heard from my Margaret, Wendy said your skills as a lover are over-exaggerated and undeserving. She said you, well, my darling brother…the time it took you to get one off wasn't the only thing…disappointing…Apparently your personal measure left much to be desired."

Harry lowered his paper and leaned toward Peter, "Let me tell you something, Peter, you are disgusting waste of a human being. Our father should have let mother do what she wanted to when you were born."

"Oh really, Harry, and what was that?"

"Drown you in the tub, Peter. She always said you were the devil. She could tell the moment you were born. Father should never have stopped her. Ah, but you just an innocent newborn in the bathtub with your own mother trying to keep your little head under the water. Poor, poor Peter. " Harry watched his brother's face turn ashen. "What, didn't think I knew? Didn't think I ever asked our father why there were you, and then Charlie, me and George, right in a row all those years later? George was mother's favorite Peter, who did you think was father's?"

"I was father's favorite!" Peter shouted, pounding his chest, only making him cough and gag more. "Him saving me proves it."

"No, Peter, he hated you as much as our mother did. He just didn't want to lose his housemaid and whore to prison for killing her own child. I was his favorite, the only one of his sons who at, ten years old, could drink that poor bastard under the table," Harry answered before returning to his paper.

"LIAR! You are the one who should rot in prison, Harold Darling! Killing a child while drunk! It's a wonder they didn't arrest you and send you away forever." Peter stood, only to fall over again out of breath, wheezing, panting for air.

"I didn't kill that child, Peter. That's why I never went to prison." That was the truth plain and simple, for Harold Darling always told the truth, at least, as he knew it. Nothing more would be said between the two until much later.

Captain Hook checked his pocket watch, and Mary held her gaze to the clock on her nightstand. They both held their breath as the bell to John's flat rang. Two constables held their hats to their chests and inquired after Mr. John Darling. "I'm sorry, officer, he is out this morning, is there something I can help you with? I'm his uncle."

The constable nodded grimly, "His wife Margaret, who has been missing for sometime…" (He had to go no further down the path, Captain Hook wiped a tear that rolled down his cheek, and Mary smothered her face in the blanket to stop the tears.) "Someone will have to come to the morgue and identify the body of course."

Well, yes, of course, and since John was not home, Uncle Harry along with his brother for company, who insisted on joining them, were the only ones available for the task. They rode with the officers to the city morgue where Margaret Penny Shipman Darling Davis Darling-Darling was laid out on a cold slab.

"What was the cause of death?" Harry asked, gently easing the sheet back over her face. "It appears as though she fell from a great height." The medical examiner made his best guess.

"Her body was discovered early this morning wrapped in blanket on the church steps. The priest suspected that maybe she had jumped from the bell tower, but then she would have landed in the courtyard, and her body would have been found there. And of course, there is the lingering question of who wrapped her so caringly in a blanket. Her injuries look as though she hit something unforgiving, like the pavement, so you can see how the priest's theory of her demise makes sense. But then again, at the church there was no evidence of this being a suicide except her body, which, again, was wrapped in a blanket. I'm not too certain just yet of any other details, but I must say looking at her file, if this information is in fact correct, and she has been missing for years, the oddity is she is still attired in the clothes she was last seen wearing. Now her injuries and the condition of her body look as if this happened only a few moments ago, which makes no sense at all. When the priest found her, he was shocked, for he had been down the steps not even a minute prior to unlock the gates. He had heard nothing but the birds chirping outside and saw not one person out and about. As he returned to the front steps to reenter the church, there she was. I can't even venture to speculate where she's been in the meantime. If she were kidnapped and murdered, why would her killer dump her body at a church? It is as if whoever is responsible for the crime wanted her to be discovered. I'm sure the police will want to question her husband further, but I don't think that will make one damn bit difference. Seems no one but this poor unfortunate soul will be able to solve the mystery. And with all due respect Sir, she's dead." the medical examiner said angrily as he fixed the sheet stained with Margaret's blood covering her body entirely.

Harry agreed, and, with his brother in tow, slowly walked back to John's flat. Peter was unusually silent, so much so that Harry held his tongue as well. "When we get back I will send word to George, poor George, yesterday it was Mary, now Margaret and who knows of Martine?" Harry finally said.

Peter kept his eyes forward, needing to continually stop to take rest; his health had not improved after spending a night in jail, if anything it was now much worse. As they reached John's doorstep, Peter finally found his voice, "Where is Mary? And Martine? She's missing too? I thought she was with George and his family."

Harry unlocked the door and pushed his brother in. "No, Peter, Martine has been missing all this time too. Mary went missing yesterday, that's why George couldn't retrieve you this morning. That's why we're here instead of over there. He's been trying to ease the children's minds all last night and into this morning."

"Why isn't anyone looking for Mary? And Martine, too, but it's not like Mary to just take off, she should be home. I mean the last time I saw her she was … I bet George thinks I stole her up. But I wouldn't want her, no, not after he spoiled her! Never mind. Anyway, they've got to be somewhere. Martine, she's my only child you know. I left her in her mother's care. Someone should be worried after her. If it was Wendy, George would be paying out the ass for investigators to be finding her, but my daughter…" Peter responded, coughing and hacking his fury on the matter.

"If you call leaving Martine in an orphanage 'her mother's care,' not to mention that she's certainly _not_ your only child, I'm sure, just the only child you know about, George and Mary have worried plenty after her. And as far as Mary is concerned, no one thinks she is with you."

Harry shook his head, and took a seat on the sofa without saying another word. Peter flopped down on the floor and began choking on the vile that rose from his throat, offering more seemingly worthless and stupid explanations that left Harry baffled, "Maybe Mary is with whoever did that to Margaret. Maybe they kept Margaret and killed her, maybe it was pirate and he made her walk the plank, and then they took Mary and made her do the same thing. The constables should be checking the steps of all the churches in London for her body. And Martine, maybe Mary found out where the pirates were keeping Martine and she went to rescue them because she is a mother and that's how she got caught and was made to jump into the ocean."

Harry watched Peter just babbling, taking heavy hard breathes in between, and muttered under his breath as he puffed on his pipe, "Pirates … What rubbish …"

The room fell silent with both brothers now lost in their own thoughts. Harry was looking through his work ledgers from the tavern in which he hid his own savings for Martine, which he kept secret from John, out of respect for him as Margaret's husband. The guilt Peter felt -- repeatedly watching in his imagination Mary's fall from the plank, and the splash into the cold sea that followed -- consumed him. He also had visions of Margaret, when to him, she was her most beautiful, dancing about in his head. Martine, he could not even envision what his child looked like, and still she twirled around her mother laughing in his imagination. And last he saw his baby brother George walking about the world aimlessly alone and unloved, all because of him.

Peter needed some sort of peace, and until George arrived he attempted to get it from Harry. But Harry was not handing out peace this day. Knowing George's ultimate plan for revenge, his response to Peter was to be as vengeful, spiteful and as cruel as possible. In the most sympathetic voice Peter could muster he asked, "So Harry, I heard that your engagement was broken only yesterday by your fiancée. She stopped in when you were in the washroom to gather up the rest of her things. She didn't even want to see you or wait around for you to say good-bye. She told me to tell you she's keeping the ring. I am sorry, it being Christmas and to lose your love on the holiday like that. What was her name? She was rather pretty looking and I mean that in the most polite manner."

Harry's retort was simple, "Her name was Constance, and I didn't love her, I just liked to 'plow her' as you so graciously put it. She didn't love me, she only loved my money, and so it is no major loss for either one of us if she's keeping the ring. But thank you for your condolences on the matter, and I say that in the most polite manner."

Peter shifted about in his seat, readying himself to try again. "Well, Constance said you cheated on her. She said she knew you were a cheater, that's why she wouldn't set the date. You and your loose women, you've always got the ladies climbing all over you, wanting it. Lucky bastard!" It was not meant to be spiteful; Peter said it as a joke to ease the tension between them, hoping to open up a comforting dialogue.

But that comment was just what Harry was waiting for. "I wonder…did she happen to mention anything of my 'short comings?' Why of course not, you see Peter, her – pretty Constance -- I had in my bed. And since you seem to care after my feelings so deeply, please don't bother. I -- not her -- was the one who would not set the date. I only gave her a ring to stop her bitching about it. And I must tell you, dearest brother, _I am_ a very lucky man, for the woman with whom I engaged in the affair with was by far no woman of loose means, although she did climb all over me wanting it."

"All the better for you dearest brother," Peter concurred giving his best smile.

"Yes, it was all the better from me. Only, too bad she was my brother's wife, or we may have really been able to have something real between us instead of just adulterated passions." Harry had stopped whatever it was he was doing to make his statement. He stared at his brother Peter and offered him a rather victorious, yet straight face. "You know her, Peter, she is your brother's wife as well. Mary Baker _Darling_." He sneered her surname as he leaned forward on his chair. "Oh, you were right about Mary, thinking her an animal in bed. You should see the things that woman can do with her tongue, not to mention the hole she has between her legs. And she's got a way about her when she wants it as well, like a cat in heat, pushing it in your face and crying for it, begging me for more. I swear there was times she made me ride so hard I was actually sore from her -- really Peter -- my back hurt for days. Just how you like them that Mary is. Tight and sweet, even after birthing three children, you'd never know."

Harry rose, and then leaned his head toward his brother, "And _you, _my dearest darling older brother, will never know… Two brothers down, but no more to go, for she would never lay down for you. And even if you forced her to, Peter, you'd still never see the heaven I have in that woman. Poor Charlie never got his chance, but that's just because he's dead. But don't tell George I was screwing his wife, lovely Mary Elizabeth, almost everyday when he was gone from the house, okay, because he doesn't know … I guess you can say my reputation with the ladies is well earned and very much deserved for poor Mary cried like a newborn baby when I ended it with her. She actually told me, Peter, she didn't know how she was to go on without me."

"Your brother Peter is too proud to ask God to be saved. And he must ask forgiveness for his sins and do a penance for all his wrongs, or he will burn in hell. Remember, vengeance belongs to God and no other, so you can't kill him, Mr. Darling. He can ask you for anything, anything. But as long as you do not hear him ask for forgiveness and penance then you are safe," Captain Hook informed Mr. Darling as their pact for revenge and resolution began.

So close was Peter to George as he wheezed and fought for air in his final moments. Yet he was so far away. Peter Darling lay in the deathbed Harry had sent him to by confessing of his (exceedingly embellished) affair with Mary, the only woman Peter Darling ever truly loved, but could not have. George, now up from his night's rest, dressed, with a full belly from breakfast, stood outside the bedroom door carrying on a conversation with his brother Harry. Peter could hear George's voice talking back and forth in his normal tone, unconcerned by the exaggerated heaving Peter was doing to gain his attention. "George, George, please … just a second, that's all I need, there is so much to tell you, please …"

George did not give him a second; a second thought, a second glance, a second chance. He joked with Harry about John's attentions toward a girl with two of her own children whom he wanted to marry, and then adopt the children as his own, and Harry's flirtation with a woman at the grocer's, ending his years of engagement to a pretty woman named Constance who would never set a date. The name of Margaret was mentioned and Peter listened, as George's voice grew fainter and fainter and further and further from him. "Don't go George, please … George …"

George Darling got his wish, not only was his name the last to cross his eldest brother's lips, God himself looked down and with one heavy hand, actually finger and pushed Peter Darling through the mattress straight down to the underworld. Satan was killing time with extra room on his lap for the new arrival he had been waiting rather anxiously for. With a happy bow from the devil up to the heavens above, Peter burned while being mocked and jeered by demons dispatching his punishment all starting at the same point of agony, _"George's Mary made love to your brother Harry all of her own free will, over and over and over and over again..."_

A joyous event, Peter's demise, turned somber when an unsuspecting John returned home to his mother. Mary had been crying at the kitchen table. She told him of Margaret's fate, and John cried as well. "It's been so long, I never believed, Mother, never, that she went back to Uncle Peter. Not after everything she told me, it just wouldn't have been possible. You didn't know her like I did, she loved me. She loved Martine and she loved the boys, she just was afraid of them. She was afraid they would grow up and be criminal and immoral just like her father and Uncle Peter was. She told me in order for them to grow up good, I would have to raise them, she didn't want any of her experiences with those men rubbing off on them. She was terrified she would damage them by hugging and kissing them, as if that contact with their own mother alone could make them monsters! She pledged her entire life to save Martine; she told me she would give her own life trying to save Martine from the same hells she had lived through. She never wanted the same things that happened to her, to happen to her daughter. I want to believe that's how she died mother. I want to believe she died giving her life for her daughter. To protect her from all the bad in the world, all the evil out there seen and unseen."

"I found both Margaret and Martine." Captain Hook informed Mary one night in the closet. Without her having to ask, she was told, "Margaret is dead, and Martine is alive, if you want to call it that."

Mary was devastated by the news, with no other information she assumed Peter Darling had them against their will, but she was half right.

"No, they are in Neverland. Peter Pan took Martine away from her home out the bedroom window. Margaret was raising her in a sheltered life; Martine wanted to escape, so Peter Pan promised her that escape. He knew Peter Darling was her father, and he wanted the daughter of Satan's brother. Apparently, Margaret caught them making their way out the bedroom window and latched on to her daughter's leg. The trip to Neverland, the way Peter Pan takes children, is a treacherous one, as not to be followed by grown ups. Margaret lost her grip on her daughter and fell."

Mary was speechless, crying hysterically. "Martine saw her mother fall, and ironically enough, ran away from Peter to find her. She took her to a cave offshore, and hid there. The fall didn't kill Margaret, but it slowly sent her well on her way there. I don't know what Margaret or God for that matter said to Martine so let's just keep that between them, Madam. Anyway, Margaret died a day or so later, and Martine remained with her mother as she promised. The mermaids have been keeping watch over her. As I promised, I will retrieve Margaret's body and send it back to your world."

"But I don't understand, if Peter Pan is a grown up in the real world, who has Wendy hidden somewhere, how is that he had the time to go back to Neverland and steal away Margaret and Martine?" Mary managed through tears.

"Well, Madam, I assume he leaves his post from time to time here and returns to Neverland in the body of a boy. You see, as real as he is, he is still bound to Neverland just like I am. And the truth is, the devil never plays fair. Recruiting Peter Darling's daughter as a helper is your proof on that measure. My guess, he makes an excuse to your daughter and disappears for a few days back to Neverland and everywhere else in the world. And so the good news is that Martine is alive, but the bad news is that she cannot return. She has already begun her transformation."

Mary was holding her head in her hands and perked up at the word, "Transformation?"

Captain Hook nodded his head with his lower lip extended keeping his eyes to Mary, "Oh yes, fairyhood. Where do you think lost children go? If not one end then another or there would be millions of youngsters running about in Neverland. The devil has to put them somewhere or hell would be overrun with children. Between you and me, he has never been very fond of them."

Mary sat up at attention, suddenly her tears ceased, "Millions? The devil? You're really not serious?" she whispered.

"Yes, Madam, I speak of the devil in reality as he is and millions of children. You do not really think Neverland was created the day your children touched down there. Nor do you really believe children are only snatched from London? As far as the devil, Madam, I'm surprised you think a metaphor when I talk of a real person. You've seen him in the flesh yourself. Just like God, he is everywhere. Did your father not tell you George was the devil at one time?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Well, Madam, now you understand his message. Thus the devil snatches children from London and all over…"

It was not the word London or devil that disturbed Mary, is was another, "Snatched?" Mary interrupted with.

Captain Hook continued to nod. "There is a darker side to the story, Madam, would you like to hear it?"

Mary listened to his story with wide eyes, had she had her rosary beads with her in the closet, she would have been clutching them. He finished the true tale of Neverland and his plight with a clarification of sorts. "Maybe 'snatched' is not the correct term to be used. More so, at least as the devil claims, children are only tempted away. You see, by giving those innocent children a choice to stay here on Earth and grow up or go off to Neverland to be young forever is considered fair play. But I say 'snatched' nonetheless, for without the offer of eternal youth and never ending carefree days, which is a complete and utter falsehood all in itself, especially where Neverland is concerned, the thought of that possibility would never cross a child's mind. Most children, believe or not Madam, go eagerly into maturity."

"Now you asked about Margaret, Martine and Wendy, we must understand Pan has to check in with Satan from time to time, and then get back to the real world. So, as you can gather from my dark tale, I am the grand prize. Lucifer wants the grand prize. Lucifer has always wanted the grandest of all victories, and he loves archangels, after all Madam lest we not forget, the devil was once one himself. He genuinely hates any of his former kind that would not join in his rebellion. Really, he cares naught for children. Therefore, my brethren turn those children into fairies to save them from hell, and Pan enslaves them. All that aside, if Pan has convinced him he can deliver me with Gwendolyn as the bait, he can pretty much do whatever he wants with little or no supervision. And that means moving in and out freely from your world and mine."

"But you said he seeks revenge for you loving Gwendolyn and she loving you?" Mary asked grasping his one hand in both her own.

"Yes, he does. So he lies to his master to get what he wants. Madam, he is evil. Every word that leaves his tongue is a lie. He lies to children! Do you listen when I speak, Madam? Remember what I told you? Just because Pan no longer wants something, just because it is not useful to him anymore, doesn't mean I get to keep it. If he even suspects he will fail, he will kill Gwendolyn and send her to hell in my place."

Mary thought that was all she needed to know, but again was half right. "Martine has been in Neverland, watching over a dead body that does not decay. Margaret is preserved, just as Martine is, well, like I said before, her transformation has begun. Martine knows nothing of the time that passed and she has not aged, at least not yet. You absolutely cannot let word of her condition or her whereabouts slip to anyone. The devil has ears everywhere. Part of the reason she is sustained and not completely turned into a fairy is because Pan has to be there when it happens." Captain Hook rose to take his leave back to the Jolly Roger.

"I thought you said the angels enslave them?" Mary asked holding him in place.

"No, madam, I said they turn them into fairies, you know, shrink them, grant them wings, trap them in Neverland, and last but not least, take from them their hearts. That makes them fairies…"

"They take away their hearts?" Mary would not release him to his own world; she yanked him back down kneeling face to face with her.

"Yes, their hearts, Madam. They care not for others, only themselves, thus, they don't need them. Anyway, how else could they live forever?"

Captain Hook touched Mary's cheek with his hand and brushed her hair off her shoulder away from her face with his hook. Captain Hook smiled; trying to give Mary some relief from the frightening nightmare she could not shake herself awake from. "Enslavement comes after the children alter. Pan catches each one by their new wings, he dips them in hellfire to give them a cute little lighted aura and fairy dust and then…" Captain Hook leaned toward Mary's ear and whispered, "He cuts out their tongues so they are unable to speak the truth…"

John sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands for quite some time without speaking or moving. Mary sat with him, holding her teacup, now cold. George entered with Harry, discussing Peter and where he should be buried. George made his way into the kitchen, and without acknowledging John or his loss, informed all present, "Peter died, pneumonia mixed with syphilis, mixed with whatever sins he's committed in his life. We've turned his body over to the undertaker who will cremate it. Then he'll dump the ashes in Potter's field. There is to be no church service, only a notice of his death printed in the newspaper."

Mary looked up to her husband; George was silently celebrating his victory and held his head high, chest pushed out in a presumptuous manner, as if to say he was the undisputed master of the family. "George, you can't cremate the body, it has to be buried intact with a blessing or…"

George rolled his eyes, shook his head and blew out air from his mouth, annoyed at her correction of his well thought out decision, "I don't want to hear your silly religious rubbish, Mary, I really don't care if his coffin is not sealed until the second coming of the Lord, he isn't going to heaven anyway." George turned on his heel and headed back into the parlor. To put the period on the end of his sentence he added as he trolled, "There is no coffin, no headstone or burial place for Peter. It's just a hole in the ground, Mary, for what's left of him to rot in."

Harry turned to John. "I'm sorry, son, for your loss, Margaret was the sweetest girl. She will be missed." He gave John a handshake and his sincerest condolences. "If you need any help making the arrangements, after all, John, Martine..." Harry added, with a pat to John's back.

"No, I'll be fine. I am sorry for your loss as well, Harry, Martine and all. Thank you," John responded, standing up and staring off down the hall to where George was reaffixing his coat to leave. "Going someplace, father?"

George nodded, "For a walk," he turned without another word and made his way from the house.

George didn't need a walk, but he felt leaving his son to his mourning was a fair solution to the situation. George hated Margaret; he had wished she had died in childbirth long ago. He certainly could not tell his wife or oldest son that, so he went for a walk. He should have thought better, and at least tried to make it seem as though he was sympathetic to John, that way he would have been there for the unexpected interruption into the perfect plan plotted to save the Darling family. Instead, he was gone and Mary had to face John alone, for neither Harry nor Captain Hook would be any help.

"I'm moving, Mother, as soon as the New Year is upon us. I will take Caroline and her children to Boston. I've already applied to a bank there, and they are eager to have me. I've been trying to think of a way to tell you, but your disposition has not been what it once was of late. I was planning to take you and the children along, but you yourself said only father could send you from this house. With that in mind, I guess I will only be taking the children then," John began.

Harry knew of his intentions, so he said nothing only returning to the parlor to give John and his mother privacy. "I mean my children, Joseph and Edmund. I would take Jane too, but she is yours and I'm sure you will not part with her, even if it is best not to separate her from her brothers."

"John, you can't take Joseph and Edmund away, they think you are their uncle, they have no idea George and I are not their parents. Please, think of them," Mary urged, holding John by the arm as he shook his head. Just like his father, he was the boss of his own family and no one, not even his mother, could sway his own well-made decision.

"I am thinking of them, Mother, you and Father have done a fine job this far, but what will you do when they get older? You are getting older yourself, and so is Father. There is a great big wonderful world out there, and I want them to see it. I grew up my whole life here; I want them to have more than that. Caroline has two boys, and we are going to enroll them in school there; I will do the same for Joseph and Edmund. Perhaps together, we can finally be a happy family. You always said you wanted us to be happy. Mother, Joseph and Edmund are mine. Not yours. Not father's. They are coming with me."

Mary was speechless; she didn't know what to say or how to respond. John was right; Joseph and Edmund were his children, and not theirs, no matter how much she wanted to believe they were. Her two sons by George were grown and gone. John, a successful banker, was headed to Boston, and Michael, decorated in his military services, was asleep in the ground.

"Whatever will you tell Jane of her brothers?" John had a question and an answer; "You wouldn't have to tell her anything if you let her come with me."

Mary shook him off without reason, until he demanded one. "Because she does not belong to anyone, John, not you nor your father nor I nor Wendy. But as long as she is alive, she will remain here in this house."

That response infuriated her already saddened son, "What, am I not good enough to raise your daughter?" And words only said in anger and resentment seem to seep out at the most inappropriate of times, "The way Wendy turned out, a tramp spinster marrying a man for his money, I would be expecting you to beg me to take Jane away."

John often forgot where he sat, in his parent's house. He also often forgot to whom he was speaking, especially where his mother was concerned. Mary often had to remind him of both, and she did now with a slap across the cheek.

"Its seems I failed all my children in one way or another. If your grandmother Josephine were alive, she would tell you that it was my original sin with your father that made you what you are, ungrateful. But I think it was more so that we just loved you too much. We felt it best to let you go off and make your own choices, whatever they were. And when they blow up in your face, whom do you blame? Not yourselves, for that would mean you would need to take responsibility for your actions. No, you blame your parents. I think it rather amusing at times, your father and I were such horrible parents, yet in the times when you need us the most, neither you nor your sister ever had any trouble asking mommy and daddy to fix it."

Mary rose from the table and glared down at John, who was just as defiant staring up. "I am so sorry, John, for Margaret. I truly cared for her. But you cannot take Jane; she is our responsibility and not yours, nor any other human being's. I can't stop you from taking Joseph and Edmund, maybe you're right, maybe they need their father to raise them, and I commend you on your choice, that in fact you are that man. And so you have made a choice, and with that choice lay a duty, and that duty is, you will have to tell your children. We never lied to Jane about Joseph and Edmund. She knows they are not her brothers, she only calls them that because she pretends they are."

That was not what John wanted to hear; indeed, he was hoping mommy would fix it and make it better as she always did. For a moment John began to second-guess his choices, and Mary, his mother, gave him strength, "John you will be a wonderful father and guide to those boys. They love you, they look up to you, and all they have ever wanted was your attention. It is a good thing that you have finally decided to give them all they will need from you. The hardest part will be taking them away from Jane. But Caroline seems a fine woman and doting mother. If she is willing to raise your sons as her own, as you will do the same with her children, I am sure you will grow together and become a very happy family. God will hear our prayers, and he will ease our hearts and make it better." Mary now retook her seat, clasping John's hands in hers. "Now, what of Martine?"

"Margaret had it put in our will that if she died, she wanted me to send her to a convent and let nuns raise her, how ridiculous!"

Mary bit her lip, and raised her eyes to heaven in thought, "Margaret was her mother John, if that is her wish for Martine, you should honor it. We will cross that bridge when we come to it."

John was comforted by his mother's words only a moment before, but now he was simply aghast at her suggestion, "Have you gone mad mother? You think I would actually turn Martine over the church just Margaret was afraid of her own shadow? Really mother! I really think you should reconsider keeping Jane, lest she turn out the same way Wendy did! I will be back later today to gather up Joseph and Edmund's things. As far as Martine, you are not her mother and _I and I alone_ will cross that bridge when I come to it. Good day." John pulled his hands from Mary and stalked from the house without even a "good-bye!" to his Uncle Harry.

Harry followed quickly to the door on John's coattails after hearing the ruckus of loud voices in the kitchen. He shouted to his nephew, "I will cross that bridge when I come to it because Martine is MY DAUGHTER, NOT YOURS!" He slammed the door on John, and turned to see his sister-in-law, Mary.

Mary also stood up, and walked after John, catching his departing figure stamping up the sidewalk down the street. "I know she is not really my daughter, Mary, but it is my name on her birth certificate. When she comes home, and she will come home, I will see that Margaret's final wishes are honored."

Mary hugged Harry as he cried for his own loss. "Who are these children?" she said through her own tears. "I hardly know them anymore. It's so odd, they came from my body, I carried them with me for months, and now it is as if they could not be further away from me. Why is that?" Mary asked her questions out loud expecting hear Harry to respond, soothing her misery.

Instead, she heard Captain Hook standing in the doorway, "Take heart, Madam, John is simply confused in his feelings. He had thought he could make a fresh clean start away from a wife he had grown to hate, for her fear of men. And then to find her dead from a fall from the sky, well, now he is filled with guilt. And a little jealousy."

Harry was responding to Mary, consoling her with a silly explanation about being a man and needing to cut apron strings, but Mary did not hear one word only repeating what Captain Hook had said, "John jealous?"

Harry looked up as he was speaking, wringing his hands, a habit all Darling men had, "Well, John, could be jealous Mary. That is, he is jealous that you and George lived a simple happy life from the very beginning, and here he is only a couple of years away from thirty, waiting for that happiness to begin. He often forgets you and George had hard times too. When he was a small boy, it is only the good times he remembers. As a man with his own troubles, he turned blind eyes to his parents' struggles, thinking it easier to just pretend you and George live a true fairy tale life. And you and George rarely ever let the child see your own private battles within your marriage. It took John months to realize what truly happened the night you and my brother 'quarreled' as George called it. And before that Mary, the only time the children saw your outward arguing was…"

"Listen to your brother-in-law, Madam, he speaks the truth," a very impressed Captain Hook stood with his arms folded across his chest. "And the apron strings, that is also correct, very good, sir, keep going."

Captain Hook fell silent and urged Mary to do the same as Uncle Harry rambled on, "I know George has this open door policy with the children, and that could be the problem, too. You and George had to struggle and earn everything you had, that made you appreciate it all the more. The children are a little spoiled, Mary, and that's not entirely your fault. George insisted on having all this money put away for rainy days that never came, and with his over abundance of wealth, well, your children are going to want to spend it for you. Take Wendy for example …"

"Oh yes, Madam, take Wendy as an example …" and Captain Hook began his own dissection of the wrongs Wendy created for herself, Harry's voice receded. "Wendy is torn between two lives, the life she wants for herself, and the life she feels others want for her. The problem with this is she does not know which is which anymore, and is confusing them both as one and the same."

Captain Hook said nothing more and only yawned as Uncle Harry yammered on, "She probably had a young man she loved, but felt you and George would never approve, and that's why she stayed away for so long. Then she picked another more to your own liking, and convinced herself she loves him just the same as the other. Now she knows in her heart that he is not her true love, but if he keeps telling her that he is the man her parents want her to marry, well, she takes the wrong man and makes him the right man, knowing she's wrong."

Captain Hook broke into applause with that revelation, courtesy of Harold Darling. "Now I see why you love this man the way that you do, Madam, I really like him as well. When all is said and done, Madam, may I make him a pirate?"

Captain Hook did not wait for Mary to respond, he raised his hand to shush her, and then turned him attention to the door that had just blasted open.


	57. Chapter 57 Mixed Blessing

My Darling Love

Chapter 57 – Mixed Blessings

_"If help and salvation are to come, they can only come from the children, for the children are the makers of men"_

_-Maria Montessori_

In the front door raced Wendy Darling, carrying a bundled sodden Jane in her arms followed by her two brothers, Joseph and Edmund. Wendy's expression was panicked, and if Captain Hook could have relieved her arms of the little girl's weight, he would have -- he wanted to. Wendy didn't see the pirate captain gazing down lovingly to Jane cradled in her arms, as she pleaded for her mother's aid, but Jane did. She smiled up to him as he waved to her with a loving expression of adoration and devotion. "Papa, carry me," she whispered, thinking him George, and her sentiment made him lean down and brush his lips every so gently over her forehead.

"Mother, she fell in the lake through the ice, she's freezing, help me! Help me make her better, mother, please! I don't know what to do! We must save her, mother!" Wendy was weeping hard, and she had no idea why. If she'd been irresponsible, and not been watching closely, she would deserve to blurt guilt-filled apologizes, not this worry filled with immeasurable fear.

Mary took Jane, who, even shivering, asked after the tall man with curly dark locks standing before her. "Is papa wearing a wig? He looks funny." Jane giggled but then began coughing, and up came her lunch all over Mary, mixed with more ice water from her lungs. Mary made her way up the stairs to the washroom, and ran a warm bath for both her and Jane.

While they bathed, Captain Hook remained outside the door with Wendy, waiting the entire time. "How did she fall through the ice, Gwendolyn?" Hook asked to her distracted face.

She looked lost in the dread that Jane was to suffer for her mistake. "I don't know how she fell through, we were skating and having such a good time. I looked over and she was gone. There was a hole, a crack straight into the water, she was there, trapped under the ice. I saved her. I pulled her out. I can't lose her, for she is all I have!" It took Wendy a moment or so to realize she was talking to herself. She was sure someone had asked her to explain, but she could not see the other presence beside her.

Peter Pan strolled in the front door and up the stairs to where the chaos was taking place. Harry readied himself to care for Jane in her room, urging Mary to hurry along with the girl. Captain Hook waited with Wendy, who continued to cry. Without asking Peter for an explanation of his whereabouts, Wendy ran into his arms and began pleading for his help, wanting his comfort. Peter held her close to his chest and soothed her with, "It wasn't your fault. It just was an accident. She will be all right Wendy; her mother is taking care of her. She will be fine. I know it."

Captain Hook stared at them. They were in love, which was now clear to him. His normal reaction would have been a grimace and a sigh of annoyance at such a vulgar display of affection, but at that moment, he was envious of Peter. For not only was he allowed to be a man on Earth, he also was allowed to be real.

Peter Pan kept his eyes ahead, and stared at a pirate captain, obvious to the young man's eyesight. "Wendy, I know what will make your parents happy, something to take their minds off of Jane, who I'm sure will just get put to bed with some hot cocoa, and then be better by tomorrow. Tonight, we should ask them for their blessing so we can finally be _HUSBAND_ and wife."

Wendy nodded with a warm smile and a kiss belonging only to Peter Pan.

But it was to be much more than a bit of a chill for Jane. By the time Mary dried her off and put her to bed, she was already running a fever. George came home much later, walking side-by-side with his son John, and together they ascended the stairs to a bedroom full of people caring for the small child who dry-heaved toward a trash bucket on the side of the bed. Harry made his way over to his brother. "She fell in the lake through the ice, George, she's got a wicked cold of some kind. I think she might have been sick already last night, Wendy said she was complaining of being chilly and needed to sleep in bed with her sister to warm up. Mary and I are doing all we can to make her feel better. It is going to be a long night, we must get her fever to break."

George entered the room and took count of all present. Peter stood behind Wendy who was still crying, the boys sat on the floor nearest her. Harry stood in the doorway and John stood beside his father looking on. Mary rested on the bed with Jane to her chest. Captain Hook sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his daughter.

Jane was ashen in color and unresponsive. Her eyes were glazed, and she appeared to be staring at her father, the pirate captain, with a small smile of contentment. George knelt down and spoke softly to her, "Jane, how are you feeling, my baby girl?"

Jane moved her head to him slowly, as if any movement made her ache. The smile became complete, and she informed George in a whimper, "Look, Papa, my guardian angel is here."

She pointed to Captain Hook, who smiled as well, and winked with a nod to George. Jane tugged on George to gain his attention, whispering in his ear, "But don't laugh papa, even though he looks funny dressed like that…" She closed her eyes and comfortably rested back against her mother still softly speaking, "in the gracious light of God, he is beautiful…"

George inhaled and smiled to Mary who wept silent tears, holding Jane tighter to her bosom. George touched her head and felt the heat that engulfed her little body.

"Alright everyone, let's leave mama and papa with Jane for a little bit. Its getting close to bedtime, we best get some food in our bellies," Uncle Harry suggested, ushering everyone from the room.

"I'm tired, Mama, I can't keep my eyes open anymore. Say the prayer and then I can go to sleep." George and Mary recited along with Jane the bedtime prayer said every night by the Darling children. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. God bless Mama and Papa, Uncle Harry, Uncle John, Aunt Wendy, Edmund and Joseph, Uncle Michael and Grandpa Joe in heaven and my guardian angel…thank you for sending him back to me…"

Jane closed her eyes after Mary and George kissed her on her forehead, and wished her sweet dreams. Jane peered through her eyelashes to Captain Hook who took to his feet from his knees while Jane, Mary and George prayed, "James…" she whispered, "I still have your rosary beads, I'm sorry I didn't return them, I forgot. They're in my dream box…"

Jane pointed her finger to a small jewelry box that sat on the top of her dresser. George went to it and removed the ruby and diamond rosary from within and handed them to Captain Hook, "No, you keep them, Mr. Darling. Consider them a gift from a pirate captain." George took them and clutched them to his heart gazing back at Jane asleep.

Mary watched the little girl fading away before her. "Will she die now? You said she would, but not yet. Why now? Can it not be much later, when she is older, much older? There is so much she has not seen, has not done… Please …" she whispered to Captain Hook who was now standing by Jane's bedroom window looking out.

He paused, and then answered as honestly as possible, "Peter Pan knows I am here, he knows why I am here. I told both you and your husband, the same rules do not apply from this kingdom to the one I am bound to. He knows Jane is mine and he knows neither one of us can survive without the other. She carries within her the part of me that makes me real here in your world. And I carry within myself the part of Jane that allows her heart to keep beating. Peter Pan knows that, and he will not let that to go on. This afternoon was only the beginning; it is to get much worse, Madam. All I can say for sure is you both should stay with Jane tonight while she sleeps. Do not leave her alone or unguarded under any circumstances. When it is time, as the end draws near, you will know. God will tell you."

"Why must Jane die? Not to save us. Not to save me. I will not allow it. The Son of God has already died for my sins." George spoke sternly, grasping Captain Hook by the sleeve.

Captain Hook ominously stared at George, and made the sign of the cross over his chest, to show his own personal absolute respect for the Son of God. With an unfriendly, dare say, dreaded expression the pirate captain replied, "Jane will not give up her life as a sacrifice to save your soul Mr. Darling, so you need not worry over that. Nor will it be by God's hand that she is prematurely called back to heaven."

Hook glanced to Mary, Jane and then the window as he replied; "Angels there are amongst you, out of sight, invisible, figments of your imagination. Unreal." He turned to George, standing face-to-face and eye-to-eye, "But you can see me Mr. Darling." He shifted his head to Mary, "And you can see me Mrs. Darling."

Captain Hook returned his attention to George, "I am real to you both right now. There is a simple explanation for this. You both can see me because of Jane." He pointed to his daughter asleep as he spoke.

"Because she is a real being in this world. And as long as she is alive, a shadow on Earth that is visible to your conscious minds, I will be. It is an abomination, even in the eyes of God, for an archangel, exiled no less, and a fair maiden on Earth to have a child together. It is a forbidden impossibility. Yet, Jane was conceived here, in your world. The love Wendy had for me the night our daughter was created was enough to make Jane real. Now, if her love was enough to make Jane real, her love is enough to make me real also. I assure you with Jane alive, it is only a matter of time before Wendy remembers…everything…as it once was. Peter Pan knows that. Bringing her home has already reopened corridors in her heart long forgotten. Pan cannot allow that to happen, for as much as my salvation lies with your daughter, his does as well. To win his game and claim his victories, he must cut all the ties that bind me here, Jane being the first, the last, and the only that matter in his plight for she is mortal. If he kills her on Earth, I will be banished for eternity in Neverland and I will be the one forgotten, forever. If the heart offends thee, which in that case, it would, I will be forced to cut mine out. That is exactly what he wants. I said Baby Jane would die, but only if you permit it to happen."

He turned from George and addressed Mary, "You must continue the charade with Peter, and he must not know you are aware of him as anything more than he pretends to be." Without another word he left by way of the night sky. George and Mary looked at Jane; she slept comfortably, not the slumber of imminent death, but one of peace.

Mary did as Captain Hook advised and stayed with Baby Jane, George went downstairs to the kitchen, where everyone was gathered. Wendy was trying desperately to busy herself, attempting to prepare a light meal for her family. "Mother is with Jane while she rests…" Was all George could manage before he choked on his tears and took the chair John offered as he entered the room.

Only a short time later, after everyone ate, more so, pretended to eat, Harry and George engaged in an intimate conversation in the hallway, "I didn't want to say this in front of Wendy, but I asked Jane why she skated on the thinned ice while I was treating her. I've taken her and the boys skating myself many times and she knows of such dangers. Well George, I don't know how to tell you this, but she told me…" George held up his hand, interrupting. "I know what Jane said…Mary told me…" George spoke quietly while shaking his head, doing his best to control the emotions that poured from his heart. Frankly, George didn't need his brother to reiterate what a higher authority had already warned him of.

Wendy now sat at the table and cried, there was no consoling her. Peter sat across from her and stared, lost in this world and the bewildered by the idea that an irrelevant little girl could bring such agony to his Wendy. "I don't get it, Wendy, I thought you would be happy with her gone…" Peter gave his weak-minded opinion on the matter of her sister's -- rather daughter's -- condition.

"Why would I be happy, Peter? I love her. She's just a baby," Wendy replied, dumbfounded at his cruelty to even suggest this was a cheerful event for Wendy

"I don't know, Wendy, I thought you always liked being the only girl." Wendy watched as he continuously tilted on the back chair legs, rocking in his seat. Peter had a happy thought, and so he chuckled to himself quietly, "Jane's as gullible as Hook … I'm not surprised …"

Soon midnight approached, and with nothing else left to do but pray, John took the boys home to the flat. To give his sister-in-law rest before the long night ahead, Harry stayed with Jane while she slept. "Allow no one but George or myself to enter into this room Harold. Do you understand? NO ONE." Mary reiterated several times before leaving her daughter's bedside.

Peter and Wendy sat with George and Mary in the parlor without speaking. Wendy was still sobbing quietly, as she had since she'd yanked Jane from the lake, and Peter still held his quizzical but bizarre smile toward her from the other end of the sofa.

George and Mary had lost a child before, but this time, there would be none to replace her, so their grief consumed them. They sat with one another on the love seat holding hands, George held his arm about his wife for support. It was the sound of his heartbeat that urged hers onward, and it was her breathing that reminded him to. They were truly one heart and soul living in two separate people bound by love. Harry calmly stepped from Jane's room upstairs and called out for Mary, who in turn took to the stairs in an instant. Only a moment later Harry quickly made his own way down the stairs and out the front door into the night, holding a handkerchief to his face to hide the downpour of tears.

Peter Pan jerked his head up to the door as it slammed shut and over to George, who now sat forward with his elbows to his knees, holding his head in his hands.

"Mr. Darling, me and Wendy--" Peter chirped before Wendy corrected, rudely interrupting her fiancé's train of thought with, "Wendy and I."

"Okay, _Wendy and I_ have been wanting to ask you something for a very long time." George lifted his head slightly, turning his attention to Peter, who was sitting across from him with a disturbingly chipper smile, as though any news -- even if it were the best news in the world -- could transport everyone present into celebration. "We've been wanting to ask your blessing."

"Blessing? I don't understand…" George answered, as confused as he was irritated that now, of all times, this would have to be the one that Peter would choose to ask it of him. To show his displeasure, he snarled at his daughter who shifted her stare to her father as Pan jabbered on.

"We, Wendy and I, want your, Mr. and Mrs. Darling's, blessing for our marriage."

It never surprised Wendy how stupid and down right thoughtless Peter could be. But it amazed every body else, George included. "Let me got this straight, my baby daughter is upstairs on her deathbed," that sentiment alone made Wendy cry harder, and viciously punch her intended in his arm, "and you want me to give you my blessing for your marriage? Young man, have you lost your mind?"

Peter was baffled, so much so he whispered to Wendy, "I don't think your father likes me, maybe I would be better off asking your mother first."

Wendy gazed upon his naïve expression, and with as much fury as she was able to muster, she answered by ruthlessly pinching his arm, "If you bother my mother with anything tonight, I will kill you."

Neither Wendy's threat or George's nasty tone thwarted Peter Pan, for he blathered on with, "Once me and Wendy -- sorry Mr. Darling, I mean Wendy and I are married, I'd like you do all the investing with my money. I'm quite wealthy, you know, and Wendy has bragged that you are the smartest man alive when it comes to stocks and bonds and all that financial stuff." George watched Peter as he spoke and then turned his gaze on Wendy, who shrugged her shoulders, tears raining down her cheeks in her own self-made misery, attempting to act blameless to Peter's insensitivity. "So, you can look after my money and me and Wendy can go off and be married and happy."

Once more, for good measure and as it was the only punishment Wendy could think of at the moment, she punched Peter in the arm and screamed her grammar correction of, "It is 'WENDY AND I!' and 'ME and WENDY!'"

Before Peter could reply another voice spoke up from the entranceway.

"And what of children? Will you not give my daughter children?" Mary said coolly. She entered the room and stood directly in front of Wendy, holding her eyes to her daughter's intended. Mary's comment surprised Peter, as he had not expected her opinions on the matter.

"We don't want to have any children, we don't like children," he sneered back to his future mother-in-law.

"Oh really, I was under the impression Wendy was very fond of children."

Peter shook his head dismissively, "Wendy never wanted children as a child, why would she want them now?"

Captain Hook stalked in behind Mary and hissed into her ear, "Liar he is!" He kept his lips to her ear and harshly scolded, "Madam, lest I remind you again, do not leave my baby Jane alone…"

Mary paid him no mind, and took her seat next to her husband, a silent participant in the little game about to be played. "George, Jane wants you to sit with her for awhile." Mary spoke first and now it was George's turn to run up the stairs.

Mary watched George go and when she was sure he was out of sight, and earshot, she offered to Wendy not only her undivided attention, but also her declaration that was not to be questioned by anyone in the house. "So you and your fiancé want our blessing. I don't know, Wendy, your father and I will want to discuss it and now is certainly not the time. When Jane recovers, remind us again, won't you."

Peter saw Captain Hook standing centered in the room, and waved to him with a bright smile, showing his mouth full of white teeth. Even in the body of a young man, he appeared like a little boy, sitting up straight, and overjoyed that he once again had the opportunity to taunt the pirate. He had not heard one word Mary had spoken, his mind obviously elsewhere.

Mary moved her gaze over to where Captain Hook stood; she could see him but acted as if she were blind to his presence. "Who are you waving at young man?" Mary looked back to Peter, raising her brow.

Peter Pan snapped back to himself when he realized Wendy was also looking in Hook's direction; unfortunately she was truly blind to Pirate Captain's attendance. "No one, I mean I was waving to Mr. Darling as he was leaving the room." Pan gave Mary the same childish smile he gave Captain Hook and waved at her also.

Captain Hook came into the parlor and sprawled out on the loveseat next to Mrs. George Darling, as if he owned the place. He put his boots up on the coffee table and stretched his arm over Mary and began blowing in her ear. Peter watched it all transpire, growing rather uncomfortable as Mary received a slight chill from his touch and shivered asking, "Is it cold in here, or is it just me?"

Wendy turned her attention to her mother, "No, it's actually warm, Mother," she mumbled unwrapping her sweater and tossing it to Peter. "Give it to my mother, Peter." Peter slowly rose and Wendy had to nearly kick him over to the other side of the room to hand it to Mary. Peter extended his arm without looking and began waving the sweater in Mary's face. "PETER! That's rude! Hand my mother my sweater like a gentleman." Wendy shouted, seeing Mary move half her body over on the sofa to make Wendy take notice of her fiancé's bizarre behavior.

Peter, thinking of his own game, walked right up to Mary. "Here's Wendy's sweater for you, Mrs. George Darling!" The formality was mockery toward Hook who only mildly grinned, holding his adoring eyes towards Mary. This was not at all the reaction Peter had anticipated.

Mary took the garment and smiled politely, "Thank you, Peter."

Peter took a second before he smiled back; in that second, Captain Hook leaned over Mary and whispered, " It does not matter to me that she is Mrs. George Darling, Pan. Just look at my lovely Mary, and her husband so much in my likeness. It is as if God placed him on Earth just for me to live through. You know, Pan, at times I do." His finished his sentiment by placing an affectionate kiss upon her cheek, neck and lips as she turned to see the clock on the wall, Mary encouraging the pirate captain on with her mocking grin.

Captain Hook leaned into Mary's ear as she purposely shifted her neck to scratch the back of her head, and Mary perked up and offered, "Come here Peter, let me look at you."

Peter was trapped there, gazing at the two of them in horror, as Mary turned her full attention to Peter with that same mocking smile, Captain Hook pressing his head into Mary's staring back at Peter. It wasn't long, but long enough for the red fire to roll within the pirate captain's eyes. Peter tried to jerk away from Hook as he bent in further and closer to the boy who'd refused to grow up, that now finally had, but Mary held his hands. "Peter, what a handsome young man you are. I never really looked at you before."

Mary held out his arms to look him over, and Hook mimicked slashing him with his hook. "It won't work here dummy," Peter Pan scoffed to show he was unafraid of Captain Hook or his hook.

"What did you say young man?" Mary asked, as Wendy was already on her feet to her mother's side. "He's just tired mother, he didn't mean to call you a dummy. RIGHT PETER?" she hissed into Peter's ear and poked his side.

"Uh, sure, Mrs. Darling, I'm just sleepy. I meant to say, Mummy. It won't work here Mummy, you know like Mommy but Mummy, because that is what I will call you when me and Wendy get married."

"Wendy and I," Mary corrected and added, "I am not your mother, Peter." She threw his hands away from her. Wendy, desiring to alleviate the unfriendly mood in the room, sat next to her mother on the loveseat, in the lap of Captain Hook, who was rather pleased, his expression overjoyed as she sank further into him.

Although she could not feel it, Captain Hook squeezed Wendy about her middle with all his might and rested his head lovingly on her shoulder brushing his face to her neck. "NO WENDY! Don't sit there!" Peter shouted, grabbing Wendy by her arm to pull her up.

"Let go of me, Peter!" she slugged him back, "I'll sit by my mother if I want. What's gotten into you tonight?" Captain Hook smirked to Peter Pan, still caressing Wendy while she embraced Mary.

"There is still room on the loveseat, Pan -- why not sit on my lovely Mary's lap? You know, if George and I are one in the same and you marry Wendy, you'll be my son-in-law." Captain Hook mockingly imitated George's sternest expression, then ran his tongue from Wendy's neck to her ear, sending a shockwave of passion up her spine and back down again. She grasped her neck and moaned in delight.

Peter was outraged, standing mouth agape. Mary just handed Wendy back her sweater, "See, it is chilly in here. Look, Wendy, you are covered from head to toe in goose bumps."

"That's vulgar, because that would make Wendy your daughter!" Peter blasted standing before the lot with his arms proudly crossed. Captain Hook rested all the way back on the sofa and watched as both Mary and Wendy glared at him, confused by his comment.

"Young man, Wendy IS my daughter," Mary gave voice, only to be hushed by Captain Hook who pulled Wendy back against her will into his chest with such force she yelped. "Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, bone of my bone? I don't think so Pan. George Darling is her father. But I guess you could say I could be her … stepfather."

Suddenly and without warning, Wendy acted if she was goosed on her behind and then fell to floor as Captain Hook stood and shoved her from his lap. "You know, Pan, she still calls out for me while she sleeps. Why is that? God only knows what a woman with her experience in bed dreams about. Next time she moans for me, tell her you are her love," Hook sneered into Peter's ear before turning from the room. Peter Pan was so enraged he tried unsuccessfully to kick and scratch at Captain Hook as he strolled from the parlor back to the hall, "Eh-eh-eh," Captain Hook shook his finger in the air, "I'm not real, but you are!"

Mary stayed on the love seat alone with Wendy on the floor. Only poor Wendy seemed troubled that Peter was fighting with an imaginary foe. As she turned to see her mother's reaction, Mary pretended she had something in her eyes and had missed the display. Captain Hook motioned to Mary with his finger to come to him when he took rest leaning against the doorway, but she still showed no awareness that he was there, casting her glance over to Peter Pan who was watching her. "Was that for you or for me?" Peter asked Mary, then to Wendy, "Or for you, Wendy? Can you see him?"

Wendy got up off the floor with a little help from her mother and shook her entire body, tears pouring down her face. "See who, Peter? There is no one there! What are you talking about? Mother can you see anyone?" Wendy turned to face her mother with her arms raised, her suffering was painful to watch, especially for Mary being her mother.

Mary shrugged her shoulders, "I see your father, Wendy."

George stood in the doorway waiting. Captain Hook was gone. "What is going on in here?"

"Wendy, why don't you and Peter go to bed? It is to be a very long night I am sure. You both need your rest. Margaret's funeral will be the day after tomorrow, and…" She broke off and gazed to the stairs keeping her eyes to her husband reading his face, "and Jane is not resting easy. Hopefully you will find comfort in your sleep."

Wendy took her mother's advice and, with a completely dazed and confused Peter, went to the nursery. With them out of earshot, Captain Hook re-emerged from behind George and demanded, "We have to get Pan back to Neverland tonight. And why is my Jane alone yet again? Did I not tell you both at least a hundred time only tonight, she is defenseless in this world!"

George watched Mary, who closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "If I knew how to get Peter Pan to return to Neverland, don't you think he would be there and gone already? If you have any ideas, I'm most willing to hear them," George responded, keeping the pirate captain in the corner of his eye. "Mary, Jane wants you." George walked down the hall and to the kitchen out of sight. Captain Hook finally laying his claim to a child George had raised and loved like his own daughter was painful to his ears and his heart.

Captain Hook bowed to Mary as she passed him making her way up the stairs. "Thank you, Madam," he said to her as she went by.

"For what?"

He touched her hand and gazed into her eyes, "For loving her."

Mary patted his hand on hers and responded, "I am her mother, that is what mothers do." She kissed his forehead and left him alone at the bottom of the stairs. "Please check in on Martine won't you? I'm sure she is still worried about her mother."

Captain Hook bowed again at her words, and followed her with his eyes until she was behind Jane's door before taking his leave.

George entered Jane's room with a cup of tea for each of them, and found Mary sitting on the chair beside the bed. "She's sleeping finally," he whispered, and offered to trade her the chair for his lap.

Mary felt silly sitting on him like she was a child, so she settled for a cushion on the floor by his feet instead, "You can sit, George." Every so often Mary would rewet the cloth that she kept over Jane's head to help lower her temperature, and every so often when not praying for their youngest daughter's health, George and Mary would chat with one another.

"He asked for our blessing, Mary. Wendy seems to feel very strongly that he is the man she should wed," George offered first in a whisper.

"I don't think she loves him, George, and I will not give my blessing or any other until I have a chance to speak with her alone and in great detail on the matter," Mary responded, thinking for now that would be the end of the discussion.

"Why don't you like him? Aside from what Captain Hook has told you. Really Mary, he could be lying. I'm not stupid, you know, Mary; I know the two of you talk alone all the time. You never, not once, told me anything he has confided in you, and I'm your husband," George muttered, showing his jealousy of their intimate and private relationship.

Mary started to say, "You never told me what you and your mistress spent your lunches and evenings discussing…" but thought better of it when George wrenched his head toward her with a shocked look of disbelief.

"You are never going to let that go, will you? Not even now?" George asked, moving his attention back to Jane. "If it bothers you that much, Mary, we discussed my fear that my only daughter Wendy will die a spinster!"

"I told him nothing George that you are not already aware of. I shared with him nothing that is secret between you and I." Mary replied softly. "We did have our own plans of revenge I did not involve you in…for fear it would cause your delicate soul harm and for that I am sorry…although it does not matter now."

"I talked with 'her', he sneered the word, "about things that went on at the bank, and with my brother. I told her about you and the children, nothing of importance, nothing secret, and nothing that everyone else in the world is unaware of. I told her how you and I met and married, the life we had together and the life I wished we had because I love you more than I love myself." To lighten the serious mood as best he could, George added, "And on occasion I told her I was afraid my only daughter Wendy would die a spinster who wrote a scandalous novel about her parents' love affair."

Mary nestled into his leg, and wrapped her arms around it in a hug. "Wendy will not die a spinster, George, and so what if she did? Even if everything Captain Hook told us is a complete and utter falsehood, I still think it better for our daughter Wendy to die an unmarried author of trashy romance novels than married to a man she doesn't love. Really, George, we love each other tremendously, and at times throughout our lives, being married to you has been unbearable, and I mean that with no offense, dearest. My point is, how difficult it can be when two people love and care for one another, imagine how horrid it can get when they don't! Revenge is never a good argument for marriage and neither is money."

"Touché," George said, nodding his head, "although I think the story of our love would have books flying off the shelves!" Mary agreed to that and interjected, "Lets us hope our daughter has enough good sense to change our names in the torrid tale. Can you imagine George? What would the neighbors think?" On that note, they both smiled to the other and went back to praying.

Captain Hook returned to his cabin, sitting down at his desk and resting his head in his hands. After long moments without moving, he shifted a handkerchief from a little jar and stared at the contents within. A young woman no larger than a real sewing thimble was sitting on a rum cork crying. She stood when she noticed him watching and began jumping around trying to communicate with a tiny squeaky voice. Stuck in the middle of childhood and fairyhood, she had already begun to age into a mutated adulthood. Captain Hook sighed in sadness, as in her effort to make him understand what couldn't be understood, she tripped and fell over her makeshift seat. Martine Darling gave up as she got up and moved her rum cork back into position, retaking her seat upon it. Captain Hook picked up the jar for a closer look, and she watched him for some kind of comfort, offering a weak smile.

"I got you something for Christmas, my lady, I think you are going to like it." Captain Hook carried the jar over to a table in the center of the room and gently lifted the young girl out. She did not fight him, raising her arms to catch his hand as he placed it carefully inside. The first time he picked her up from where she was hidden in moss growing in an ocean cave near where her mother lay, she bit him. Now she was peaceful, and impatiently brushed away his curls from her face when he turned, as Mr. Smee knocked on the door. "Oh sorry, dearest heart," he replied, seeing her struggle. He yanked his long locks over his shoulder with his hook, closing her softly in his palm, and shouted, "ENTER!" as Mr. Smee was anxiously rapping on the cabin entranceway.

"Just like you wanted, Captain, all put together, complete with a tea set." Mr. Smee smiled to Martine as Captain Hook placed her on his shoulder and directed her to, "Hold on". She grabbed, as much hair as she could, and Captain Hook walked through his door into the hall outside his room. "Very good, wonderful, bring it in, Smee."

Three pirates rolled in the grandest of all dollhouses into Captain Hook's cabin. It had every luxury of a genuine castle, complete with a throne, a main entrance, washroom, kitchen, numerous bedrooms, nursery, dining room, parlor, an office fit for a king, a sitting room filled with windows with a chaise lounge fit for a queen, a winding staircases, attic and high towers hoisting a skull and cross-bone flag. The walls were painted in the prettiest colors and patterns, and each room had a miniature rug, soft and cozy on the floor. "Now close your eyes," Captain Hook commanded, as Martine couldn't see anything through his thick mane. She did, as well as Mr. Smee and the three other pirates, causing Hook to sigh in utter annoyance.

He scooped Martine up and placed her down inside on the first floor, and whispered, "Now open them, your royal highness." Martine gazed around, wide-eyed in wonder. After Captain Hook attired her in a tiny little jeweled crown, she entered the kitchen and opened the cabinets, all filled with tiny plates and silverware. She bolted up the stairs into each bedroom and threw herself down on the tiny bed. Martine investigated every single room, closet and cupboard from top to bottom. In the master bedroom, as she pulled tiny dresses and regal gowns out of the wardrobe, she caught sight of her aged appearance in the mirror. She fell to her knees and began to cry. "I'm sorry, your majesty, there is to be no more childhood for you," Captain Hook offered.

Martine took rest, finally dozing off, stretched out in the miniature bathtub in the washroom. Captain Hook plucked a dove's feather from one of his hats and covered her where she lay, but not before moving a little pillow from a bed on the third floor and resting it behind her head.

"Sweet dreams, Queen Martine," Captain Hook said as he leaned his head around and saw Mr. Smee and the three pirates still standing in their places with their eyes closed. "You can leave now," he declared stalking back to his desk and retaking his position, head in hand. Mr. Smee and the pirates bumped into one another and then the wall walking from his cabin with their eyes closed. Captain Hook looked up only to shake his head and then lower it again. In his hands he held his rosary beads, these crafted from pearls of the sea, and in his heart he too began to pray.

As he asked God for aid in his own private plights, the tiny castle fit for a queen, with Martine still inside, dissipated into thin air.

Peter fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow, and now he was snoring rather loudly. It echoed throughout the nursery and kept Wendy from her own sleep. She got up from her bed and sat on the ledge by the window. It was a cloudy night, and the houses across the street hid the moon. She needed to see it, so she did the only thing she could think of. She crept from her room and silently tiptoed to the attic door. Uncle Harry was not here, and his room, her old room, was empty. She checked in on her parents and Jane, and found them all sleeping as well. Seeing she was alone, she climbed the stairs, and gazed about at all the changes.

The only proof that it had ever once been her room at all was the writing desk still against the wall by the attic window, which was oddly open. It was the end of December and cold outside, but the wind that blew in was warm and reassuring. Now in her pajamas, she sat at her old desk, enjoying the soothing breeze. "Wendy, darling, what's wrong?" George, her father asked from behind her.

"Nothing, father, I was just wishing …" Wendy began, but the words escaped her.

"You were just wishing? Wishing you could be young again?" Wendy had turned to see her father as he approached, but now she returned her gaze again to the moon. "You don't love him do you?" George asked, taking a seat across from his daughter.

"No, I do," she responded a little too quickly to be believable, "I do, I just feel like something in my life is missing. You don't like him though, neither does Mother." Wendy sighed leaning her head against the window frame, sad, even on such a glorious night.

"How could your mother and I not like someone who would give you a necklace as grand as this?" George pulled from his pocket the necklace of the fair maiden Gwendolyn.

"This is not mine, Father, wherever did you find it?" Wendy asked, looking curiously down at it, afraid to touch the priceless piece of someone else's heart held in George's hand.

"No, it's yours. Your mother and I found it in your dream drawer before I redid your room for your Uncle Harry. As a matter of fact, I found a drawing there with it. Really Wendy, sometimes I cannot figure out if you have a more imaginative mind for writing or drawing. Although I must say I have yet to read one of your stories. But the artist in you is truly blessed." George stood as he talked, and went to the dream drawer in Wendy's desk, removing the drawing of Captain Hook and Gwendolyn, offering to Wendy as they both glanced down at it.

"I wondered what you thinking when you drew this, your mother thinks he is a handsome man. Not as handsome as myself of course …" George said to Wendy embracing her, "You should pursue the gifts God has blessed you with. There is no greater sin than to waste the talents the Lord has bestowed you with." George kissed her forehead and patted her shoulder before heading towards the stairs.

"Wendy," George said, turning again, "Your mother says if you wish to have our blessing, we should give it to you and Peter Pan on your wedding. Have him ask us again in the morning." George smiled to Wendy's blank expression, and strolled slowly down the stairs.

Peter Pan peered up to the attic from the doorway that George had left open on his way back to Jane's room. He grinned from ear to ear, his plan in place, but he did not hear the most important part of George's message that Wendy did.

"Peter Pan?" she whispered to herself, looking back to the picture of Captain Hook and his one true love that she held in her hand. Louder than she should have, with her wicked fiancé taking slowly to the stairs, sure of his victory, Wendy shouted "James!" and ran out the window in one quick step, dropping the two stories toward the pavement below.

There in Neverland, Captain Hook paced the deck, staring off at the same moon Wendy had beheld. "I see the moon, the moon sees, the moon sees someone I want to see, blessed moon …" He spoke as Wendy landed directly on top of him, having just fallen from the sky.

"James!" she shouted still on top of him, showering his face with kisses, "James, I love you, I love you, I love you!"

Peter Pan hit the landing just as Wendy leapt forward out the window. He shouted, and Mary and George, sitting quietly in Jane's room with her still fast asleep, looked toward the ceiling. "It has begun then," Mary said to George, who nodded his head. "Well done, George, now what? We both can't go. One of us will have to stay with Jane here, and the other will have to go to Neverland and protect Wendy. I'll go."

"No, Mary you should not go, you are not as strong as I am. This is my battle for you and for our children. I must go." George swallowed the knot in his throat and stood with his hands in his pockets.

"Kiss me, George," Mary requested, looking up to him, so proud of her husband. George bent down and touched her cheek, brushing his lips gently over hers. All at once, she stood and they embraced in a devoutly impassioned kiss, a kiss Mary took from him, a kiss as if it were to be the last kiss of his she would ever receive.

"Remember George…" Mary's last word of advice went unheard, Jane sat up and bed and shrieked in agony, clutching her heart, moaning in despair. "I'm going now, Mary, before it is too late."


	58. Chapter 58 Fight or Flight

My Darling Love

Chapter 58 – Fight or Flight

"_Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father."_

_-Lydia M. Child_

Captain Hook lay flat on his back with Wendy kissing him so fiercely he could not breath. He gently eased her off of him and stood, her with her lips attached to his cheek, neck, hand and hook as he regained his feet. "Please, James, I love you, I remember it all, tell me its not too late, and tell me you love me! I love you, I love you!"

Captain Hook looked at Wendy; a compassionate expression filled his face only to dissolve into a nastiness that darkened his entire being. He harshly grabbed Wendy by her shoulders and turned her, trading places with where she was standing. Instantly, he cried out in dire despair, a slow and lingering call of agony echoed throughout Neverland as he fell into her arms, knocking her to the deck with his heavy weight. Wendy rolled Captain Hook on his back and looked up as an adult Peter Pan stood before her, his arms crossed over his chest, drenched in the blood of the pirate captain she held tightly to her.

"I WIN!" Peter shouted and began dancing about on deck.

Wendy felt the tear in his shirt and the cold jeweled handle of the dagger; all he was wearing evidenced Captain Hook's point of impalement, where he had been pierced jaggedly hacking flesh and bones on the blade's way to his heart. With the dagger still firmly implanted in his back, a mixture of blood and a silver liquid poured from his mouth and wound, pooling around him as he lay. Captain Hook's breath became labored while choking on the fluid rising from his chest, "Where is your father, Wendy?" he asked breathlessly to beloved who was crying, speechless, "Just as I found you, I lose you … "

George Darling stepped onto the deck from the Captain's cabin and gazed about at the mayhem onboard. His eldest daughter was lying on the deck holding the dying Captain in her arms, while Peter Pan rejoiced over his defeated enemy.

"Now you are mine, Wendy Darling, mine and only mine forever," Peter Pan commanded, pointing the foil he had picked up in her face. "Captain Hook cannot help you now, he cannot save you! I killed him! I finally killed him! No one can help you! No one!" Peter began spinning about, still on deck, but wanting desperately to be able to fly again, holding his arms out.

George Darling watched the display, and another part, a special part George had earned through years of selfless service to others he had been blessed with, now took over, the part of his manhood that was called "father."

"MURDERER!" George shouted walking right up to Peter knocking him off his feet with on quick jab to the jaw. With Pan down, weeping like a baby, George went straight to his daughter to examine the Captain and his injuries, offering her words of comfort as he turned the Captain on his side to check his injury. Wendy was still part child, the part of her that kept her memories of the Captain and their love locked away, and this child pleaded, "Please, Daddy, make him better, help him, please fix him," not wanting to believe his wound was a fatal one.

George removed his jacket and instructed Wendy to press down on the wound around the dagger in the Captain's back where the blood and mysterious silver liquid poured. "What is this?" George asked running his fingers through the platinum fluids that pooled below where Captain Hook rested.

"Blood of an Angel …"

Wendy touched the crimson red that looked as if it floated in smaller collections over the silver in the river that ran from him, "This is real blood?" she asked, and Captain Hook nodded, "Yes, Gwendolyn, its Jane's…."

Peter was shocked, being called "murderer" and then being knocked down by an older gentleman whom he felt was no match to his youth. He rose to his feet and stood glaring at George ready to fight him man to man. But the man he wasn't inside took flight instead of fighting, leaving Peter cowering like a little boy when George rose to his feet and shouted, "They are going to take you away and lock you in prison until you rot, you selfish, stupid boy! You had your whole life ahead of you and you wasted it! Wasted it! All your stolen money and unearned fortunes mean nothing if you are just a common useless criminal! And if you think I would ever have let you marry my daughter and take her away again, I'll see you dead first! God forgive me and my family as well, for I would proudly sit in jail for wringing your NECK!"

George stood, hands on his hips, shaking his head angrily, and saw Peter staring back, shivering, and shouted, "And another thing, boy, the day I discovered I could kill a man with my bare hands was the day I held the first baby I made with my wife. NO ONE WILL STEAL MY FAMILY FROM ME! NO ONE! Stab me in the back, you coward, I swear to you, you still wouldn't be able to pry my daughter out of my dead hands! You are nothing but a coward, a weakling, a nothing, an absence of maturity, empty, foul, loathsome--"

Captain Hook moaned for George, feeling the life within in failing. George leaned down to him after glaring another warning to Peter, who was now on the verge of tears, terrified of George's rage. "Don't even think about it, Pan, and remember my warning, MY BARE HANDS!" George screamed clutching his fists in front of himself. Squatting near James Hook, George whispered in a worried tone, "Why is he not fighting back? More importantly, why did you not fight back?"

Captain Hook yanked George closer to his face by his tie, "I can only fight the boy, not the man. He fears the parts of you called father and husband that you have earned, George, the real man that you are. Do not falter in your anger. Use the power God gave you to fight him. A mother's love can find her children here and bring them home; a father's love is what keeps them home. Peter Pan fears fathers, that is why he does not look for those who left here …"

Captain Hook took his final breaths and turned to Wendy touching her cheek, "Forgive me for not being real … I wish loving you would have been enough to make it so Gwendolyn…"

As Captain Hook was stabbed through the heart, so was his daughter Jane, the only part of him considered by God to be alive in the real world. She died just as he did, finishing his sentiment to his beloved Gwendolyn, "Pray for me."

Wendy gently eased the dagger from his body, the same one Peter Pan had crafted, and it melted away into thin air. Where Mary sat clutching Jane's lifeless body in her arms, consumed in her sorrow, the dagger reappeared sticking straight out of Jane's chest. Repeating Wendy's careful actions, she too removed the dagger, reading the engraving on its blade aloud, screaming to the top of her lungs, "If the heart offends thee dearest, cut it out."

Mary gave a reverberating groan of grief and frustration clutching it tightly in her hand. Through her tears, she spoke softly the words of advice Captain Hook, her fallen comrade, had bestowed upon her many times before this night, "Pan has no heart, so you must give him one. Vengeance belongs to God. "

George looked up to the sky hearing Mary's voice resonate toward him where he rested on the deck next to his daughter and her darling love. "PETER," George stood, glowering with a horrifying expression of fury. "COME HERE!" He pointed to Pan and then to the ground in front of him, "NOW, BOY!" he shouted as Peter took several leaps into the sky in an attempt to fly away.

"That won't work this time, you can't just fly away and escape real life. You are real now, that's what you chose; you are a real adult, a grown up with real responsibilities to others. You are not a child anymore, now you are a man. A real man. No more flying and playing games, no more battling pirates and wasting away your carefree days. Now you belong to the real world. You will have to go to work, find a home, and get a real job. Then you will be expected to marry, and your wife will give you more responsibilities, responsibilities to her and the home and your life, you and you alone will have to provide for her. Soon there will be children, children that belong to you, that depend solely on you for EVERYTHING! If there is not enough food, _you_ go hungry. They will not be clothed unless _you_ dress them. They will not be able to sleep at night, unless _you_ buy them a bed with money, money you have to earn. Then there are the heat and water and the rent that needs paying, more responsibilities to others that come out of YOUR HARD EARNED SALARY! When your family gets sick, you have to take care of them, when they have nightmares, you must wake up from your own sleep to comfort them. Don't forget, Peter, that children and wives are greedy, selfish creatures that cry and pout when they do not get their way. You know what happens then? YOU, the man of the house, the breadwinner, the HUSBAND, the FATHER, have to sacrifice anything and everything in your own life to keep those you serve, and spend day in and day out laboring for _happy_. And the best part is all so simple, what they don't take from you while you are alive, they will get from you when you are dead."

George stood firm through his tirade, although he did lower his head when his lecture was complete, for the words he himself spoke hit him like bullets.

Peter still trembled, but then noticed George seemed to grow weaker by his admission that grown up life was not the glorious gift from God it was claimed to be. "Yes, Mr. Darling, and no one thanks you for your efforts, instead they think you a coward or weak. They make fun of you behind your back and jeer at you. They don't even love you and still you keep working for them. It would just be so easy to run away and forget about all that stupid grown up stuff, for no one appreciates you anyway."

Peter began laughing, now he surely had George as a powerful ally, together they would rule Neverland forever! And that is just what he repeated to George.

George shook his head and continued, "And that is why you will always fail, Peter, for you think everyone is just as selfish and self-centered as you are. You have no idea what real love is. You think everyone looks at it like a burden and not the blessing it truly is. You are wrong. My family loves me, in spite of all my wrongs, they love me. They forgive my sins without number, and thank me for making their lives what they are. They thank me for everything I have worked so hard for to give them, even if they don't say it in words. The unseen gestures, the endless hugs and kisses they gave for no reason when they were children, the pats on the back and kisses on the cheek they offer when they are older."

George looked at Peter Pan and remembered all the times his children said thank you to him, or showed how much they loved him, without ever having said it. He now repeated it to Pan, "'Read me a story daddy, rub my tummy and make it better daddy, help me with my school work daddy, how did you get so smart daddy? Why is the sky blue daddy? Why is the grass green daddy? Hold my hand when we cross the street daddy. Kiss me good night daddy. Come and play with me daddy. Tuck me in to bed daddy. Promise you will never get sick daddy. You look tired daddy. This is exactly what I wanted for my birthday, how did you remember that daddy?' And that's just when they are children. Now that they are adults; 'what do you think I should do about this father? What university should I apply to father? Would you look over the house books again for me father? Would you watch over my own children for me father? Can I stay here with you in your home father? You know best father. If father says it's that way then it must be. We can't get married without my father's blessing'."

George looked to Wendy who now stood near him, "True, there are times we don't get along, but if everyone was happy and carefree all their days, eventually they would get bored with life. We say things we don't mean that we can never take back, we do things we wished we hadn't. We hurt one another, and we do it out of love. It is the conflicts that keep our hearts beating and remind us why we chose the life we did. Through the torments and suffering, in the end we stay together, because we know that better things will come from the lessons we learned together."

George hugged Wendy to him as he spoke, "There is no greater love in the world than the love you hold in your heart for another person, that is stronger than the love you keep for yourself, like the love that you have for a wife and children, if you're lucky. And you never have to worry about all you give away to them, because you get it back from them tenfold."

In that exact moment, the evil George perished.

"And why can't I have all that, Mr. Darling? I can, I can have anything I want, and I have more money than God himself! And if you will not allow me to marry Wendy, I don't care; all I wanted was to seek my revenge against her for loving the pirate captain who ruins all my fun. You call me a murderer? Who did I kill, certainly not him, he isn't even real!" As Peter spoke he raged towards George, who took Wendy and pulled her behind him, not only now her father, but her sacred protector.

Peter lifted up the body of Captain Hook, and carried him to the side of the boat. As he turned round to see their expressions, he shouted, "Know what happens when an angel falls from heaven and lands in hell?" George and Wendy were silent watching him, Wendy gripped her father around his waist. "The gates of hell open and swallow him up!" With that, Peter threw Captain Hook overboard, Wendy ran screaming in an attempt to save him, but it was too late.

Not only did the gates of hell open and swallow Captain Hook, it began to swallow Neverland as well, starting with ocean, drinking large gulps of land and shore with it. "You can join him now, if you like…" Peter yelled to Wendy over the sounds of crunching earth being sucked into the massive hole of fire that erupted under the ship.

"For there to be good, Wendy, there also must be evil, and if there is evil, then there must be good, for neither one can survive without the other. That is the only universal rule of all the worlds including heaven and hell contained within," Wendy repeated to Peter Pan, the red fire of Captain Hook's eyes rolling in her own. "James Hook told me that, Peter, he told me that the night you took me from him."

Peter now realized something already too late to correct. The Jolly Roger began to tip to one side and sink into the molten lava that replaced the sea.

"Without good, there can be no evil. Vengeance belongs to God. Peter, I want you to stay with me." Wendy grasped him by the wrist and yanked him over to where George stood waiting by the entrance to the cabin.

"Where are you taking me?" Peter shouted as George grabbed him from behind and propelled him as they began running towards the wardrobe of the cabin.

"I'm taking you were you belong, home in the real world."

Peter attempted to jerk free from George who would not release his hold, "My home is here in Neverland."

"I told you, Peter, there is no more Neverland. You killed the good and without the good there can be no more evil," Wendy repeated.

"Peter, you grew up remember? You are not a boy anymore, now you are a man, a man that killed Baby Jane," George jeered as they stepped through the wardrobe into the mist of smoke that poured out from within.

"No I didn't!" he retorted, shoving George up against the sidewall of wherever it was they walking through.

"Yes, you did," Wendy declared through her anger. "You were jealous that she was the daughter of another man, you were angry that I wanted her to live with us once we were married. You were ashamed that your fiancée had lain with another man she could never have. You knew I loved him more than myself and had taken from him a child, a piece of him that I could keep, that you could not take from me. But you made me leave her with my parents, and lie that she was really theirs. You knew the only reason I wanted to marry you was for your money. For once I was wealthy, I could return home and reclaim her. I know you killed my darling love and destroyed the body, I have no proof, but for my daughter I do."

Wendy walked a few steps ahead of Peter, being pushed forward by George, suddenly they all stopped, and Wendy continued, "First you tried to drown her, purposely asking her to skate to you on the pond where the ice was thinned, she fell through but to your dismay she survived, for I was there to pull her out. Now you are in her room where her grandmother and grandfather rest watching over her, as she is still quite ill with a horrible fever, but would still recover because she is strong like her father. Seeing him in her, that strength of heart she received from the part of him he left inside of me increased the rage in you. You stabbed her, in the place where she most resembles her father. Her heart, her kind compassionate loving heart. You killed her, you are murderer." Wendy spoke, beholding his lost expression.

"That's not true, I killed no one. I wasn't even there when she fell through the ice Wendy. I was at home sleeping."

"She told me you were there, Peter, she said you were in the tree watching us play. You crept out of the house, and went to the park. She said you told her to come over to catch you. You told her it was safe to skate on the thin ice. You swore to her she would be safe. That's when she fell. She said she called out to you for help and you laughed at her and fled. You weren't in the nursery sleeping. I saw you come into the house after she was put into bed. I asked you where you went, and you lied and said out for a walk. But I knew, I knew Jane would never lie, for that is just another part of her father in her. And now, here, my mother and father saw you stab her. They rose from their chairs too late to save her. Look at yourself, you covered in her blood."

Peter looked down, his hands and pajamas were soaked in red with not one solitary drop of silver.

George whispered, "Neverland was destroyed by your own hand, you removed the evil by taking yourself away and then murdered the good by cutting from him the only part of him that was real. Now you have a heart." Peter gazed about the room, Mary was crying holding Jane to her chest.

"Satan, murderer, devil, sinner, assassin…assassin," Mary hissed at him. George was holding him from behind and before he could speak in his defense, George thrust him face down to the floor.

John and Uncle Harry came barreling up the stairs and into the room where the noise was coming from. "Get the constables, this monster just stabbed and killed our Jane." George called out to his son and brother. They went running, one to the phone, and the other to the door.

Peter opened his eyes and saw Wendy's slippers in front of him. "Wendy, please tell them it isn't true."

Wendy stood devastated over the body of her child, a daughter she shared with her parents, thinking over all the years and joys she had missed, not wanting to grow up. "How did you find out about Peter, father?" She meant his true identity as a boy who would not grow up, but her father was unwillingly to look at him as anything more than Pan had pretended to be. There was no magically mysterious fairy tale character where Peter Pan was concerned, only a man of the world who had just executed his baby daughter.

George held the Peter on the floor, knee in his back. "Something in his finances seemed questionable when I looked over them. I still have plenty of favors owed to me at the bank. He's a fraud, an imposter. All the money is either falsified or stolen, swindled from old widows and widowers who lost their children. Criminal, scoundrel, a waste of a man…"

"God has a special place in hell for those like you Peter," Wendy muttered, as Peter was lead away by the authorities.

"This is hell, Wendy! Hell is on Earth!" he screamed, as the constable kicked him into the back of the paddy wagon.

"Don't you worry, Mr. Darling, we'll give him a good beating before we send him to the prison, and what we don't pound out of him, the rest of inmates will. No one thinks much of a child killer."

Peter Pan did not last very long in the real world, the day after he reached prison he was sent to an insane asylum. It seems the heart George had given him drove him insane. He died only a week later, falling stories as he jumped off a balcony to the hard cement courtyard. "Apparently Mr. Pauper was under the delusion he was an exotic bird with the ability to fly to an imaginary world he called Neverland," the doctor wrote on his death certificate. They named him Peter Pauper, Pauper for his penniless state, which meant he was buried in Potter's field in an unmarked grave with only a priest consecrating the ground and not a soul present when the dirt was thrown into the hole covering him.

Margaret was buried first, her daughter Martine's name was also placed below hers on the headstone, the constables doubted her whereabouts let alone her body would ever be discovered. Jane was buried next, in between her Great-Grandpa Joe and Uncle Michael in the church's cemetery, two soldiers in heaven to protect the innocent angel's body here on earth. On her headstone George had written,

Jane Gwendolyn Darling 

_**We shall find peace. **_

_**We shall hear angels. **_

_**We shall see her living in sky**_

_**sparkling with diamonds**._

Real man that he was, George Darling was the pillar that his wife and daughter, his own brother, son and his children leaned on during the funerals, and as the coffins, all white, were lowered into the ground. Mary wept inconsolably as Jane was covered in earth. George carried her the whole way home offering her words of comfort filled with kisses and love to sooth her misery. Wendy cried tears enough to fill an ocean. She had lost her darling love Captain Hook, and their daughter as well. She was left with nothing but her journal of their adventures together, her drawing of him and the fair maiden Gwendolyn, and her necklace, which mysteriously disappeared the night Jane was laid to rest as she slept in it.


	59. Chapter 59 The Rules of Fair Play

_Author's note: I removed this chapter to fix up a few things. Here it is once again, corrected._

My Darling Love

Chapter 59 – The Rules of Fair Play

_"God can heal a broken heart, but first he must have all the pieces."_

_-Unknown_

Wendy slept restlessly in the attic, Joseph, Edmund and John fell asleep in the nursery, and the bedtime fairy of the Darling house finished her rounds and descended the stairs to the parlor finding George sitting at his desk addressing the last of several envelopes stacked neatly beside where he wrote. Mary crept up quietly behind him and peeked over his shoulder…

_Monsieur George Dubois _

_C/O Madam Vivian Lagrange Dubois_

_41 Promenade Clemenceau_

_Les Sables D'Olonne, FRANCE_

Mary saw the name _George_ and the name _Vivian_ before her husband rested his hand over the envelope covering it from her sight. "I'm sorry, George, I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy…" Mary apologized and softly stepped from the room into the hall without another word.

"A few Christmas cards I forgot to send out, Mary, with everything else going on, nothing for you to worry over," George called out, seeing her swift departure from the room.

Mary walked down the hall to the closet, and took the knob in her hand. It was that moment she realized Captain Hook was truly gone. With him, he took a piece of her heart as well. There were to be no more consoling and encouraging words from her pirate captain, there were to be no more longs talks well into the night. There would be no more sharing of dreams and longings for the new tomorrows that would never come. As the tears filled her eyes, she thought back to the last moment they were together, she going to Jane, he, going back to his ship. "Was it 'check on Martine' or 'you're welcome' for raising Jane and loving Wendy?" Mary could not remember, but she knew for sure it was not the "I love you," she meant to say.

Mary had intended to go to the kitchen for tea; instead she walked past George, who was going there himself, and up the stairs to Jane's room. The bed was stripped right down to the frame but everything else in her room was intact. Mary opened the jewelry box, only to find James' rosary beads also missing, enigmatically retrieved by the same hand that took the fair maiden Gwendolyn's necklace. With Neverland gone from existence, all the mementoes of that magical world were collected, by the hand of God. Mary Baker Darling dropped to her knees by the bed frame and silently spoke, "You cannot take everything of him from me and leave me with nothing. You must leave me with something of him. Don't be greedy…"

Mary looked up to the ceiling, rather through the ceiling and the roof, straight up the heavens that God watched down from. Mary would not hear audibly, but what He replied to her demand; he did courteously as if curtsying for a queen. **_"I already gave you George in this life, your majesty…what more could you want?"_**

George sat at the kitchen table alone, looking about the room and its contents, trying to pass the time, waiting for Mary's return. She did return, and took her seat beside him. He was nervously regarding her attitude, for he had promised to never speak to Vivian again, although he never promised not to write. Feeling it best not to argue a technicality the moment she sat down he conceded, "I write to Vivian at Christmas, well, I write her son, Peter's son, and her too, just to be polite … Just to check in and see how they are doing."

Mary did not look at him; she only nodded staring straight ahead.

"Um … She's happily married to a um ... Gentleman … they are expecting a baby in the spring … their third together, four including George. She named him after me. She said she liked that name … I send a small gift to George every year … Vivian told her husband I was a distant uncle … He doesn't know about what happened between us or anything … she wanted to tell him and also about her past but I told her not to … I told her it was best that way … She has no other family and so … Vivian is really a nice girl who deserved a better life … You would like her if you got to know her … But I only write at Christmas …" George said his words in short bursts, watching his wife intently waiting for her to fly off the handle and begin screaming accusations of his betrayal.

Mary uttered no accusations, nor reprimands, and when he was finished, she offered this on a silver platter, "Does she still work in the dress shop?"

George smiled and touched Mary's arm, glad she asked. "Yes, in fact she does, and she loves it. Her husband is very wealthy, but she still keeps her own vocation. She's very talented, she made the robe I gave you for Christmas…" George wished he hadn't said that and again waited with bated breath for Mary's onslaught of hostile tones.

"It was lovely and very well made, although I would have preferred it blue. Tea, George?"

George had lowered his head, expecting hostile fire, but his wife's comment over the color of her robe made his head jerk up as she walked to stove and turned on fire below the kettle.

"Blue? I thought you preferred red."

Mary shook her head, gathering two teacups and placing them down on the table.

"I wrote to your friend and I asked her what she thought you would like as a gift from her boutique, something to cheer you up after our quarrel …" He caught himself with a wince, and confessed with some effort, "No, Mary, we didn't quarrel, I beat you. I attacked you like a beast and kicked you when you were down and then did not help you when you begged me to. I treated you like I was a monster and I am still brokenhearted over that. I cannot even begin to put into words how my heart is broken and need of repair over it. I ask you now for your forgiveness and I understand if you do not want to give it. But…" George choked on his words, and so Mary, a "wife" and "mother" shook her head and raised her hand to quiet him.

"No, Mary, you could have died that day at my hands, and I must say…" George took off his spectacles to wipe his eyes, and again Mary raised her hand.

"George, please. I sinned against you as well. Let us call it even."

"There was another?" George asked watching Mary and she nodded. "I thought it so…" George mumbled gazing down at his teacup.

"I'm truly sorry George, but at the time, I didn't see the choice to or not," Mary replied sadly.

"I know, Mary." Not another word was said as they sat at the table and waited for the kettle to boil, then Mary made tea. Mary glanced to George who stared blankly at his teacup, "Go on George, the robe…"

"Yes, Mary, the robe." He raised his head, looking straight ahead. "She wrote a fancy velour robe of blue would do the trick, but I thought you preferred red, so I wrote back red. Vivian made it to thank you for your aid in helping her finding her way in the world and sent it along. That's how I know she still works there. She sent a note, just telling me she was all right and the new baby. You can read it if you want." George looked at his wife who was looking away elsewhere. "Are you angry with me? I swear to you, dear Mary, there is nothing going on with her still. I am a happily married man and she is joyously married to another gentleman." George moaned, touching his fingers to Mary's hand that rested flat on the table, fearful to hold it within his own as he desperately wanted to.

"No, I'm not angry." Her reply was simple, and she clasped his hand in her own and then moved into his lap kissing his face, changing his expression instantly to one of total and unquestionable delight "You think I don't trust you, George, but I do. You think I would hate Vivian still, but I don't. I never hated her, I hated you at the time, but not her." Seeing his dismal face and the fear hidden behind his spectacles, Mary soothed, "Fret not, dear George, I didn't really hate you." Mary lovingly touched his face as his smile escaped him at the word "hate". But with that settled, his grin returned and he kissed her cheek. "I understand the mistakes she made in her life, just as I understand the mistakes Margaret made in hers. That is why I don't hate Margaret. That is why it is important that you don't hate Margaret. I forgave you, Vivian and Margaret a long time ago. Now you must forgive also. Do you understand?" George nodded and squeezed his wife tightly, laying his head to her neck.

"George," Mary lowered her head to his and whispered, "We must forgive Peter too. I know it will not be easy, but we must. Remember the Lord's Prayer; 'forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,' we must forgive to be forgiven."

"I know, Mary, I will do my best," George replied, nudging his face to hers. They kissed, and then George spoke again, bringing yet another worry of his heart out into the light. "You love him? You wish you had married him instead of me? Harry, I mean," George asked, wanting reassurance of some sort that her heart would once again only be his.

Mary pulled her head back to gaze upon his face, "Marry Harry, George? Have you lost your mind?" George was also a little stunned at his verbal slip, "I meant Captain Hook, Mary. I don't know why I said Harry. Captain Hook was the other, I know. It's alright."

Mary knew why he said Harry, for he knew another secret hidden in her heart she was unwilling to reveal to anyone, including herself. Maybe one day she would share it with him, but not tonight, for this night she belonged to him and only to him, and she felt it important that he know. "I realized something, George, I did exactly the same thing to you, that you had done to me. I replaced you with another, when you were lacking in our marriage. I chose to seek comfort elsewhere, feeling you left me no choice. For that I am sorry. I love you, I have always loved you and I always will love you. I loved him at times; I will not lie. But I only loved the part of him that was you. I never wanted to marry him, because you have been my one and only true love my entire life. And with you right here with me always is where I want to be. Right here with you, George, is where I want to remain." Mary touched her finger to George's heart.

They sat that way for quite some time before Mary realized something else out of place. "George, who else did you forget to send Christmas cards to? I checked and doubled check all the greetings we sent out. There must have been a dozen envelopes on your desk. Who are they to?"

If his face was anything but delighted with her arrival on his lap, it was beyond exhilarated when she asked that. George stood quickly and grabbed Mary by her hands leaning his head into hers, "Nine, Mary, not twelve and it's a special secret I have been waiting so long to tell you. Do you really want to know?" Mary replied with a smile, seeing the joy in George, happiness of their private life together, of sharing all the intimacies and confidences couples that are married should. "Yes, George, tell me."

John had packed his two sons, Joseph and Edmund and sailed to America, marrying the widow Caroline, becoming 'father' and adopting her two children as well after the New Year. The family of four settled in a small town in the countryside outside of Boston, coming home to London only at Christmas. Uncle Harry had never married; remaining the proprietor of his tavern, and moved back into the flat John vacated. George signed ownership of the tavern over to his brother as a "thank you" present for acting as replacement for Grandpa Joe. What Mr. Baker had once feared for his only daughter Mary had become the fate of Wendy, now an old spinster who was to die old and alone. At least a pirate captain and a daughter she never knew had loved her. And her parents and family would always love her. She moved back into the attic after the funerals and took up her life there.

Wendy read through her journal and constructed her novel, word-by-word, chapter-by-chapter, not leaving out one detail or word. She presented it to her mother one morning, leaving it on her pillow after she spent an entire month tying up all the loose ends. Although she did not write the ending or a very good beginning she felt for now it was finished enough to be read.

_Dearest Mother,_

_My first book, I have yet to title it for I was hoping you would. I think my story will account for everything that happened while away on my own adventures. Please do not tell father anything of this and please do not let him read it. There are certain things as I am sure, as you are aware, that a man will never understand._

_All my Love,_

_Wendy_

Mary read the through the entire story without stopping. It took her two days and two nights, and when she was finished she understood everything. She accepted the poor beginning and partial ending, and told George nothing of what was written. "A woman's novel, George, you wouldn't be interested."

He still wanted to read it, being his daughter's first work, and Mary, wise in many ways, discouraged him further with, "Alright, George, but I must warn you, it's a story about a young girl and her quest to find a lost puppy."

George gazed at the mighty stack of pages before him and thoughts of a little fluffy dog named Patches trekking across the continents followed by a weepy little brat who should have never left the door to her flat open in the first place like his own son John had with Nana's replacement raced through his mind. "I'll wait until it's titled and printed."

Wendy began painting, and soon the attic was too small to work in, and George cleared the nursery of its contents especially for her, "There will never be children again in this house," he observed, and made that his daughter's studio. They donated Jane's clothes to an orphanage, and kept the toys and memories locked away in the room that had once been hers, Grandpa Joe's old bedroom. The door was latched, and no one but Mr. and Mrs. George Darling had the key.

One might think that was the end. But God was still watching … and waiting …

The devil stepped out of hell for a moment, and pulled up a tree stump in the void that had once been Neverland. Just as Mary had, he too gazed up and called out, "GREEDY!" shaking his fist.

Mary didn't expect an answer, but Satan did and so he raged on, "Got the body of one of your fallen soldiers down there with me, keeping it warm for you, but I must tell you, mighty Lord, it is WORTHLESS TO ME WITHOUT HIS SOUL!"

God looked down and saw the hellfire and lava shoot out from the hole, and chuckled at the devil's attempt to provoke a rise from Him. Receiving no reply, the devil stood and shouted, "CHEATER!"

_"**Now, now, now Lucifer…You know the rules, there is to be no name calling. Whenever you are ready for a rematch."**_

Lucifer stepped up, "I am ready. I'm always ready for a rematch…" He cackled as he fell back into the hole he crawled out of, but not before hollering up once he landed, "I still think you cheat, you made me call the game a draw and yet you still kept the prize. And don't even get me started on Jane! Unfair play!"

That got the Lord's attention and He parted the clouds that were not there and gave His full voice, **_"Read your rule book, Lucifer, the angel must be cast into the hellfire by his choice to be enslaved by you for eternity. It was not my fault that Pan felt it necessary to pierce James' heart and send him back to heaven. And it is not a technicality, Lucifer, as you are thinking. Call to mind all the times Hook and Pan have sacrificed themselves, saving their place on the battlefield. They are sent back by us, are they not? And they begin again where they left off, do they not? How can I continue the game when my piece has been incorrectly wiped from the board by the opposing side? Remember the rules … there can be no evil without the presence of good and vice versa. If you ask me, Pan is the one who ended the game erroneously. It was he, not I that granted my servant relief of his position, even if it was not intentional on his quest for greatness… There was no prize. Your servant took James and sent him back to me. I took your servant Pan, and sent him back to you. That makes us even. So I'll ask you again, and only once more, do you want a rematch?"_**

Lucifer peeked his head out of the hole and nodded, "Its still not fair! Pan has a heart now where he once had none!"

God had an answer for that too, **_"If he didn't want a heart, Lucifer, he shouldn't have asked for one."_**

"And what of Jane's continued interference?" Lucifer tapped his claws, impatiently awaiting the Lord's response, "You don't expect me to believe a fallen angel from Neverland and a woman from Earth could really create a child together, no matter how much they, or you, for that matter, believe their love was real!"

"_**I did not have my hand in that child's conception or creation. Her name is nothing more than a coincidence. A name given to a child does not make them one in the same with whom it honors. If you think I am lying on that matter, as I know you do … prove it."**_

"Hook would have never been able to enter into that world without a real child born of him there! And all that has been resolved and saved would never have happened without his involvement! You cheat by looking ahead! You cheat by seeing things seen and unseen! Jane could not save her 'son' the first time you cast him from heaven, you gave her a second chance to help him earn back his wings and bring him home!" Lucifer shrieked in resolute anger.

"_**And what would that have solved, if what you are claiming is true? Absolutely nothing, for there is to be no happy ending with both James Hook and Baby Jane dead on Earth! There is nothing but suffering and sorrow with their absences there, and here I was thinking you would be thankful, grateful even. I want James on Earth as husband to Gwendolyn, not here in heaven. I wanted Baby Jane to grow up and fulfill her destinies on earth, not here in heaven. So, at the very least, where they are concerned, for now, you have won. Of course I see all that is unseen. After all Lucifer, I am God, the Father Almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth, and of all things visible and invisible. I am the Light of Light, True God of True God, of Whom all worlds were made. And of all that has been, and all that will be, I did not alter the free will of anyone. I did not change the fates of those involved. I did nothing but watch from a distance, as I always do! They made choices and if those choices were in My favor, so be it. If I remember correctly -- and I assure you, I do -- I was not the one who distorted George's entire being, making him a monster. Imposter, you are! Nor did I send anyone to an early repose by stealing away their conscious mind. Cheater, you are! I was not the one that allowed Peter Pan to move about freely within the worlds unsupervised. Fool, you are! And what is the cause and affect of your poor misjudgments and even poorer ministrations, Lucifer? You were again, defeated."**_

With that proclamation given in a thunderous tone from heaven, the devil decided it was best to change the subject. "Rumor has it you have another one of my minions up there. Family, you know. By rights that soul is mine. I want it!"

_"**Nope. You really should reread the rulebook. The rule of three, Lucifer, remember? But, if you are asking me to engage you in fair play for once, Lucifer, so be it. We shall begin, yet again."**_

"Rule of three! You cannot be serious!" Lucifer shouted.

_"**Quite, Lucifer, if three or more that ask it of me, then …"**_

"Who asked?"

_"**Margaret, Mary and George."**_

Lucifer was not impressed, and shook his head picking his teeth with his claw, "Mary and George are one."

_"**Margaret, Mary and George, and Harry then."**_

"Mary, George and Harry I believe is also one."

_"**They are not, but fine. Mary and all, Margaret and John."**_

"Really, please. You lecture me of technicalities. Margaret and John are one."

_"**Again, they are not, but since you insist on a correct list, Margaret is one, Mary and her entire family are another, the nameless constables who have searched for her are a third, the priest at the church and all the nuns are five, shall I go on? Really I could go on all day. You would never guess she is the daughter of Peter Darling, the way the entire world seems to be praying for her."**_

"Fine, recreate Neverland as it was, send back the pirate captain and I will return Peter Pan. Let's be on with it already! I grow tired of chatting with you!" Lucifer screamed, retaking the hole he climbed out to mock God with technicalities.

That answer was simple, **_"No."_**

"What do you mean 'NO'! How are we to do this then?"

_"**I told you. You still don't listen when I speak do you? Fair play, remember? If you truly want a soul you feel you've been cheated out of, then I will give you the opportunity to earn it. Have no fear, Neverland is already awaiting Peter Pan, but there will no pirate captain there. For I have a new prize for you and she calls herself, Queen Martine. But I must warn…"**_

Lucifer knew what the Lord meant without having to say it and he didn't want his warning. He snickered wise that the presence in the place of a pirate captain would surely be unfair play, in his favor for once. "Don't bother with your warning, I am eager to get on with it."

"_**Are you not forgetting something?"**_

Lucifer once again pulled himself out and rested up on his elbows. With a rather annoyed face he called out, "What now?"

"**_It is finished with Queen Mary. No more."_**

"Yes, it is finished…" he groaned slipping back into the hole. "It is truly up to all involved to end it happily. I will not interfere, although I am sure you will. I know how the lovely Queen Mary will always have favor in your eyes. Oh yes, and with the Maiden Gwendolyn as well. There is no one to save her now and she will die old, alone and unloved, what a pity. Worry not, I have bigger fish to fry and I am bored of dealing with the Darling family. A complete and utter waste of time, if you ask me. You have my word and I would be willing to shake on it." As an act of good faith to their new game Lucifer raised his hand out and extended it upwards.

A bolt of lightening jetted down from the sky and cracked the earth nearest the hole where the devil's horns protruded. **_"No thank you, Lucifer, I'd rather not."_**

"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven…

"Bless Gwendolyn, make her strong, have mercy on her heart, give her the love she prays for. Bless Mary and George, grant them a long life together. I beg of you to grant them the peace in their hearts and mind. Watch over them, they love one another so much although I know myself that they won't always see it. Bestow your blessings on them, for they are truly worthy of your efforts. Bless John and his family, may grow together in love and happiness. Bless Harry, keep him close to his family and forgive his sins against others. Have mercy on Peter Pan, for he knew not what he was doing. He will always be a childish and selfish, forgive him…Forgive Peter Darling, a pawn in the devil's game, evil since birth…"

_**"And you James…"**_

"You already gave me your absolution, my Lord, I am ready to begin again."

_"**No, James, that will not be necessary. I have already sent another in your place, another you have saved as well. Fear not that she does not have the strength required. You said it yourself, James, vengeance belongs to God, and since it is mine and there are an awful lot of fairies floating around here praying for me to take it, well, James, you I'm sure, understand my meaning."**_

"I do my Lord, But what is to become of me?"

"**_Are you brave enough, James, to believe?"_**


	60. Chapter 60 The Lessons Learned

My Darling Love

Chapter 60 – The Lessons Learned

"_The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of."_

_-Blaise Pascal_

Wendy Darling was now an unmarried woman of thirty-seven, her mother was only three years from sixty and her father was seven years ahead of that. Five years had come and gone, and they still lived the in the Darling home, Mary and George keeping the bedroom they shared all their years together. The years now gone had been good ones, but still unforgiving in the natural deterioration of youth that came with time. Wendy's father found it more and more difficult to see, and grew increasingly hard of hearing, but still was not bald. Mary only aged slightly; her timeless beauty maturing, leaving her with a head full salt and pepper hair, still held up in a bun. They were a "feisty pair of old fogies," as Wendy called them, entertaining their friends as always, until late in the evening, with card games, food and good fun. George hired two maids, a cook and a housekeeper to manage them all, finally making Mary a proper lady in polite society who had no domestic responsibilities, except to her husband, as she was now his eyes and ears.

"You still love me, Mary, even though I'm older than dirt?" George would ask loudly as they climbed into bed.

"Yes, George, I love you more and more each day," Mary would respond, helping him ease back into the pillow. It seems God still kept them in the corner of his eye, and answered Mary's prayers, George developed a charming sense of humor that got more refined as the years went by, letting go of his rigid and -- at times -- fearful disposition. "Sure you are not going to run off with a young gent with a fancy new car, Mary?" He would make her giggle and that giggle would end in a kiss and that kiss would end in them embracing well into the night and thru their sleep.

"I've still got a few good ones left in me, Mary, just let me know when you want one," George would tell her, patting her bum in the morning as they dressed for breakfast. Mary would play the part of a woman unsuspecting of her husband's inabilities in marriage, soothing his fragile male ego with, "I'm sorry, George, my love, not today. Perhaps tomorrow, you know I'm still having my woman's problems."

More so a man's problem, George had suffered a heart attack that had left him impotent three years prior. Try as he might, and as much as they both desired it, that part of their life together appeared to be over. Mary didn't mind, for at her age, she found peace and appreciation of the times they did have together that way, countless in number.

It had happened that one day, as she called him to lunch. Mary found George in the parlor, collapsed on the floor clutching his chest as the attack hit him. Returning the favors of his past, she, using the undying love a wife has for her husband, picked him up and carried him to the sofa, screaming for Wendy's aid.

George recovered quickly, and altered his lifestyle on the advice of the family's doctor, Uncle Harry, just enough to prevent not only another attack, but his premature departure from the life he loved. Now George and Mary enjoyed each other's company and simple affections, his only for her, and hers just the same for him.

Wendy watched her parents aging, and it bothered her to know that one day, maybe not soon, but definitely in the future, she would be left alone. It did not matter to her who died first, although she was sure it would be her father, in her eyes her mother would last quite a while without him. So when she did attend church, which was not often, she prayed to God to keep them in good health and happy spirits.

Wendy no longer wrote or told stories, instead she painted, and the Darling house was filled with portraits. Michael, Grandpa Joe, John, Jane, Joseph and Edmund, Mary and George, from childhood to adulthood, at the times she remembered them best, all created from memory. Wendy even painted Penny, Margaret and Martine, always together, and Mrs. Elizabeth Baker, the grandmother Wendy never knew, from her mother's vivid and specific descriptions. There were paintings she kept for herself that she did not share with another soul, those of her darling love, Captain Hook. He decorated the walls of the attic in numerous pictures, portraits, doodles, and sketches. Most of them drawn with anything she could get her hands on when the image flashed in her mind. Some were in pencil, some in crayon, most in watercolors, all the same, Captain Hook standing before her posing in his regal pirate attire. The only difference in the prints were his smiles: love, affection, devotion, compassion, mercy, forgiveness, adoring grins just for her and all that they had once had together.

Her favorite pictures, those expressing a certain moment in time she held within her heart, she finished in oil paint on canvas and had framed. Completed, they were too painful to gaze upon, so she covered them with a drop cloth, keeping them from her sight.

"Wendy, would you come with me to church?" Mary asked as George napped on his favorite chair in the parlor.

Wendy descended the stairs covered in different hues of chalk, her newest drawing materials. "Why? You just went yesterday," Wendy answered, passing by her mother on the way to the kitchen to rummage the cupboards for a snack.

Grabbing an apple, she turned to face Mary who was fixing her coat and gloves ready to leave, "Yes I know, but today is my mother's birthday. I want to light a candle for her. We don't have to stay for mass, just light a candle and then we can leave. I would ask your father to go, but with his legs and…" She nodded her head with a loving grin toward her husband. George rested in his chair, deep in a dream, mumbling incoherently, apparently trying to gather the courage to hand a bouquet of pink roses in full bloom to a princess in her tower.

Wendy smiled too, shaking her head, "I hope he's not losing his mind. All right Mother, but just one candle, and then we're leaving. I have a student this afternoon."

Wendy did have a vocation; she had become a well-respected (and much-desired) art teacher for gifted children. She tutored them in the nursery everyday, weekends included. Her first student arrived in the afternoon, just as school let out, each lesson lasting an hour, and then, one by one, the children flooded in and out until well after nine. Each child remained later, begging her for permission to stay longer than the allotted time. Wendy had a waiting list, simply not having enough time in the day to teach everyone that wanted to learn her skill, and still have any time to put her own imagination on paper and canvas. As it was, she drew alone well into the night, using the moonlight as her guide. Today, she was blending the new chalks she received as a birthday present. She mixed it with the clay John and his family had sent, also another present. (John and Caroline had increased their family by two more children in those five years.) She had already completed a miniature bust of Captain Hook, no bigger then her clenched fist, she mounted and kept on her new drawing table, a Christmas gift from her parents.

Wendy loved children and she loved spending her days with children, sharing with them openly her creative imagination and whimsical thinking. "My father says I should be drawing flowers and tea pots, not castles with dragons," a student would say with a frown as Wendy questioned what work of art should come next.

"Do you _want_ to paint flowers and tea pots? Or would you prefer castles with dragons?"

Of course, the student preferred castles with dragons that breathed fire over the moat with a rope bridge, so that is what Wendy showed them how to do. "If your father still wants you to paint teapots after seeing this, have him come to see me." The father would come ranting and raving, breathing a little fire himself, and only a few minutes in her studio, he would be aproned, elbow deep in finger-paints smearing colors over a canvas to show himself flying a kite on a clear day over a grassy hillside.

Wendy washed her hands and ran a comb hastily through her hair, which usually fell in disarray as she worked. "You are not going like that are you?" Mary said, wide eyed at her daughter, "What will the parishioners think?"

Wendy sighed, annoyed, "They will think I am that crazy spinster lady who still lives with her parents and paints for children until the wee hours of morning, just like the neighbors do."

After Peter Pan was banished in both his world and theirs, Wendy's natural beauty had returned, her face and frame slimmed down to what it once was. Although she was a mature woman who never dated nor went out socially, she was still strikingly attractive, just like her mother had once been at that age. Not a gray hair could be found in her long hair, and not one wrinkle creasing her elegantly defined face. "Only one candle mother," Wendy reiterated as they entered the church.

Mary lit her candle kneeling, with Wendy standing behind her tapping her shoe. Mary finished her prayer at the candle and directed Wendy to a pew. "I said just one candle," Wendy whispered as Mary pulled out her rosary beads and began praying.

"I can't just light a candle saying a prayer telling God who it's for and then leave, Wendy, it's rude," Mary hushed back, gazing at the confessional nearest them.

"Really, mother, why did you even have to light a candle? You don't think God knows it's you mother's birthday today? What, did He forget? Him forgetting your mother's birthday is rude."

Mary paid her daughter no mind and only patted her daughter's arm, smiling to herself, "Wendy, God is a very busy person, I'm sure He didn't forget, I only remind Him for good measure. You just can't ask Him for something and expect it done without earning it. Anyway, I want to have my confession heard; it's still early before mass. And you should have your confession heard as well. It's probably been years if not longer," Mary told her, pricking her only daughter's conscience into taking a seat beside her.

The confessional emptied of another older woman, and Mary got up and went inside. She was in there for quite a long time, much longer than one would need to confess the sins of being impatient with her husband and saying 'damn' when she accidentally spilled her tea on the magazine she was reading that morning. The mass had already begun when Mary finally emerged and knelt beside her daughter.

"You know, gossiping to a priest is a sin, so you are ready for the next time mother." Wendy mocked as she pulled out a hymnal to sing along with the organ. Mary did not respond only holding her eyes shut praying down her rosary beads one by one.

"Can we stay to hear the sermon?" Mary inquired to a fuming Wendy. Wendy looked heavenward and shook her head, knowing the sermon was the very last thing that came all the way at the end of the mass.

"But, Wendy, I have to say my penance."

Wendy still shook her head, but sighed, "Fine."

The priest said a quick mass, almost as if he were racing to the sermon, which came with his proud introduction of the newest priest to join their parish. Mary watched the man stand up from behind the altar where he was helping serve, and smiled politely to the members of their church.

Wendy paid no attention, picking at the chalk that seemed to be permanently imbedded under her fingernails. "What a handsome priest, did you hear what his name was?" Mary nudged her daughter, lost in a daydream, who responded, "I think the priest called him Father What-a-waste."

Mary jerked her head to Wendy and pinched her arm. "This is not our house, Gwendolyn Angelina, this is the house of the Lord, show some respect and apologize."

Wendy shrugged her shoulders, not about to apologize to God or her mother; she thought her joke was rather witty.

Mary maintained her stern expression as mass ended. "Sorry, Mother," Wendy finally gave in.

"Don't apologize to me, this is not my house and that priest is not my servant in it. Apologize to him." Mary pointed her finger to the confessional in time to see Father What-a-Waste emerge from behind, heading in. A very defeated and somewhat frightened Wendy slowly walked to the door, shooting her mother a backwards glance, Mary only goading her forward, "Go on, he won't bite, although he should for your poor attitude."

The confessional is a very strange little room; there is a seat, a place to kneel, and a peculiar metal slatted window separating the priest, acting in God's place, and the parishioner confessing their sins. In the Bible school Wendy attended as a child, the nun instructed her never to look through that window at the priest, not that she could see his face clearly, only his outline hidden behind little rows of open spaces evenly lined in the darkness and shadows, a soft light from the solitary bulb that hung above her. It had been quite a few years since her last confession, at least a quarter of a century, and Wendy Darling had forgotten how to perform the sacrament.

Wendy sat on the cushioned seat of crimson velvet, and eavesdropped on the other person who knelt on the other side confessional, the priest sitting in the middle box, separating the two. She only listened to the opening prayer the person said and then hummed a few bars of her favorite tune, dropping off once in a while to make sure they were still busy confessing. She heard the last prayer spoken, which helped jog her memory enough to be prepared when the priest moved to Wendy's side, and slid back the door opening the window, letting her gaze for the first time in many years at "God" hidden in the shadows.

The priest's profile was barely visible between the darkness of the booth he sat in, turned in the seated position with his hand raised to cover what was exposed to sight through the small holes in the window. Wendy suddenly found her mind blank and rambled as if he was anyone she was meeting for the first time on the street, "Hello, I'm Wendy Darling." She quickly shook her head feeling the fool.

The priest spoke back in a mild and somewhat comforting tone, "Hello, Wendy, I'm Father Dunange." Wendy was still uncomfortably silent not knowing where to start so Father Dunange helped her along with, "What sins do you have to confess?"

"Oh, right, sins, yes, that's why I'm here. Well, actually it's been a rather long time since I've made penance, or a confession, for that matter, I don't know how long. No, that's a lie; it's been twenty-five years. The last time I went was on my twelfth birthday, I think, my Grandpa Joe made me go and I gave him a real hard time. Oh yes, I just gave my mother a hard time about being in here right now. She was just in here before mass. I called you Father What-a-waste and that's the reason she made me come in here to begin with." Wendy bit her lip, worried that the priest would think her either silly or insane at her rambling, still shaking her head utterly embarrassed.

"So in the past twenty-five years you haven't been to confession, you've lied, let's use the good old term, 'without number' and sometimes you give people a hard time. Does that sound correct?" The priest responded, his voice the same.

"And I called you Father What-a-waste." Wendy added ready to bang her head against the wall in her humiliation. The nun had told Wendy that priests in the confessional acting on God's behalf cast no personal judgment on other's sins and they are trained to show no emotion.

Father Dunange gave a slight chuckle, and repeated amused by her candor, "Yes, and you called me Father What-a-waste. Is there anything else?"

Wendy shook her head, which he obviously did not see, for he said, "I understand that you are nervous, this being something that you are not doing on your own accord. Maybe you should come back at another time when you are ready, and then together we will work through your sins and see that you are forgiven. Twenty five years of living is a very long time, and I'm sure there are other things you have not mentioned."

Wendy nodded and responded, "Yes, that is what's best."

Wendy stood to leave and the priest interrupted with, "Just promise me, Gwendolyn, that you will return."

Wendy slowly turned her head to the window that separated them, "How did you know that my name was Gwendolyn? I said Wendy."

She moved closer and peered in through the open slats, recognizing not only the words but also voice and the emotions it carried with it. "Please child, you are not allowed to see me when I hear confessions," Father Dunange reminded her and offered, "Your mother told me your name was Gwendolyn, I'm sorry, if you prefer to be called Wendy. I just think Gwendolyn is such a lovely name."

Wendy sat back. "Yes…yes, it is. But no one calls me Gwendolyn anymore." She touched her hand to the grate, responding, "I promise I will return..." She opened the door to the confessional and stood in the way of another woman anxious for the Lord's forgiveness. "To you," she added with tears flooding her eyes as she gazed off into nothingness.

"Did a bolt of lightening strike you when you were confessing?" Mary asked Wendy, pulling her by the arm into a pew out of the way, letting the next sinner pass into the confessional. "Why are you crying, Wendy?"

"What did you say?" Wendy replied when she returned to herself. Before Mary could speak, Wendy asked, "Mother, who heard your confession, the new priest? And you told him my name was Gwendolyn?" Mary nodded yes to both her daughter's questions. "Did you recognize anything about him? I mean…was there anything about him you found, well, familiar?"

Mary shrugged her shoulders as they left the church and walked home, "No, he seemed a very understanding man. He's French I think. He told me his last name Dunange, it mean 'of an angel' in French. I thought it rather lovely, him being a priest and all. I told him your name as I spoke of all your good work with the children. But more so, I was talking to him about your father and his health, and how much I love him and have to care for him, and sometimes I wish I didn't." Mary grabbed Wendy to gain her attention, "I didn't mean I want your father to pass on, I just wish that we were still younger and your father was in better health, that's all I meant. I would never wish death upon anyone, least of all your father. I'm afraid if he were to die before me…"

"You would go soon after, I know mother, and I fear the same thing. But look on the bright side, if father went to heaven and you went soon after, then you would only be apart for a short while before being reunited again, and you would both be young again in Heaven." Wendy smiled and embraced her mother, Mary returning the smile, grasping Wendy's hand tightly as they made their way home.

That afternoon, all Wendy could think about was the voice and his words. The sound of it that replayed in her head gave her the most exquisite feeling of bliss she had experienced in years. She pranced through her lessons, rushing her last student out early so she could get to work. Then she realized -- she had not seen his face. She sat staring at her blank canvas the entire night, wanting desperately to draw something, only making yet another devastating revelation, Father Dunange was a priest who swore an oath to serve God and gave up his rights to being a man.

"His vow of celibacy alone would surely make him unapproachable," the maid who cleaned her studio joked, after Wendy told of her dilemma.

"I must see him again, I mean speak with him again, Father Dunange, he made me feel so … at peace with myself," Wendy explained to her mother, trying to drag her to mass later in the week.

"All right Wendy, I'll go. Good to see your faith in other things aside from your imagination has returned."

They went to mass only to find Father Dunange not there. "Where is he, did he leave? Was he sent away? Why? When will he return? He is coming back isn't he?" Wendy questioned the bishop that held his residence at that particular church as mass ended.

"Father Dunange is working at the church mission today child, he has not gone anywhere. He will be back at mass tomorrow." The bishop nodded to Mary who was doing her best to keep up with Wendy as she chased after him.

"Will he be hearing confessions?" Wendy shouted as the poor bishop exited through the magical doors leading to the altar and rooms beyond hidden in the church, "Yes Miss Darling, he will hear confessions all day," he shouted back, causing the nuns kneeling in the front row to genuflect repeatedly.

"Goodness Wendy, you can have any priest hear your confession--" Mary began.

Wendy reacted, "Oh no mother, it must be Father Dunange and no other. I promised him I would return…I have to tell him the truth, he must know everything I have done." Wendy took her mother by the hand and dragged her the whole way home.

"Wendy, why don't you go and see him at the mission if you want to speak with him so badly."

Wendy turned on her heel and faced her mother. "Oh no, Mother, I must tell him the truth in the confessional with God watching."

Wendy flew through the front door and up the stairs, grabbing her student who had been waiting anxiously in the parlor with George.

Mary followed her in, out of breath dropped down on the sofa. "Mary, is that you?"

George had removed his spectacles and had knocked them on the floor accidentally. He had long given up on searching for them by the time his wife and daughter had returned. Mary sighed, seeing him squinting and gazing about trying to see through the clouds of his vision. "Mary?" he repeated, Mary picked up his glasses and placed them upon his face. "Oh that is better, Mary could you read me a letter John sent. It arrived today in the post." Mary sighed again, for it seemed her days were now filled with being at her husband's beck and call, for without her, he could not function.

In a rather irritated voice she began, "Dear Father and Mother, I am writing this letter with much joy in my heart--"

George interrupted with, "What did you say Mary, could you read a bit louder."

Mary moved her mouth only inches from George's ear and began shouting, "DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER…"

She got not further, for George touched her arm and offered, "You are probably busy Mary. I'll just have the maid read this to me later." Mary was busy, she had her afternoon planned out to the moment, and going to church with Wendy had made her late for her weekly lunch date. Mary ran into the kitchen to inform the housekeeper she was again leaving and brushed her lips quickly to her husband's cheek before departing the house into the afternoon sunlight.

Mary only made it to the front sidewalk before gazing into the front window. George sat by himself with the letter from John in his hand looking about the room. Since his eyesight failed him completely, there was really nothing George could do. He could no longer play cards or chess without help. He couldn't read for himself, or even make his way around the house without bumping into things. His hearing was also failing, and it was difficult for anyone but Mary to hold conversations with him. At their gatherings, he had become a silent statue who laughed on cue from his wife. She had told his buddies, "Don't bother, he can't hear you unless you yell at him," when they would stop by to share news, and so they stopped coming. Mary looked down the block, a lovely lunch with her best friend or the laborious routine of aiding her husband. The choice for Mary was easy, she stepped back into the house and nodded to the maid heading upstairs to do her tidying, "If Harry calls for me, tell him I am spending the day with my husband."

"George, would you like to go for a walk with me?" Mary patted his shoulder and he looked up at her, "I would love to, Mary."

Mary helped him with his coat and hat. Together they strolled around the park and then back home. George retook his seat and waited, "It's alright, Mary, you can go now if you like, I'll be fine." Mary made no sound, but waited as well. George sat in his chair with perfect posture, straight as a board and looked about. "Mary? Are you there?" She said nothing and only waited. The silence of the room was finally broken when her husband of many years whimpered, "Bye, Mary."

Mary sat beside him and waited another moment before speaking up, "George, what are doing?"

He looked to his side where she was seated, and responded. "Oh nothing, Mary, just relaxing. I'm thinking of taking a nap." He performed a false yawn stretching out his arms causing her to giggle.

Mary touched his cheek, "Bored, George?"

George sighed, relieved that she had finally noticed, "I feel useless, Mary, there is nothing I can do. I know I am poor company, you can go out, it's alright."

That was completely untrue; there were many things George could do. "You can do anything you want, George," Mary told him, still keeping her hand on his face. He kissed her palm, offering her reassurance, "You're right Mary, you go to your lunch and I'll…" He looked about and back to her clueless of a task he would be able to perform without her assistance.

"I missed my lunch, George, walking with you," Mary told him, and George apologetically interrupted, "I'm sorry, Mary, you were so looking forward to it."

"No, George, I was looking forward to spending my afternoon with you. You know, my love, we should do everything together like we used to. You are not just going to sit around all day and look about like you are lost. If I go to the grocer's you're going with me, the same for the baker and the butcher, the booksellers or emporium. If I am in the kitchen, you'll be there with me, if I'm outside in the garden, you're coming as well." That was it, Mary's mind was made up and there was nothing he could do or say to change her mind.

"But Mary, I can't walk as well as I used to. As it was, you nearly carried me home from the park."

"I'll carry you then, George, everywhere we go, but wherever I am you will be there beside me, no matter what, and I don't want to hear another word about it." Mary chuckled, as did he.

"Maybe just one word, Mary. I can certainly use a cane to help me along."

Mary nodded, "Yes, we will get you a cane, and we will learn new things to do together. You are my husband and I am your wife, we should be together always. This is our time together, and we will spend every moment that way. Now where is John's letter?" George had it tucked in his pocket and Mary read it aloud to him, with enough volume that he could understand every word she spoke.

"What do you want to do together now, Mary?" George happily asked when she was finished, thinking better of it and adding, "Only if you want to, Mary."

"Oh course I want to George, don't be silly. Today, I'm going to teach you how to bake cookies."

George gave his wife a baffled expression, "Cookies, Mary?"

Mary led him walking backwards to the kitchen smiling at his quizzical face. "Oh yes, dear, cookies. We will make them together."

They made cookies together, baked bread, crumpets and many other things. The cook spent the better parts of her days sitting in George's chair in the parlor reading the paper and drinking tea, relieved of her duty as George had found his own talent in cooking. Mary aproned him as Wendy did for her students and together they worked through recipe after recipe delighting in their delicious creations. There was always something new cooling on the window ledge. They made so many things all at once, they spent most afternoons strolling about London, or being driven by their daughter to friends' homes dropping off their pies, cakes, soufflés and tarts complete with a posh plate of Mary's finest china wrapped with a pretty blue bow and card, "_Made with Love from George & Mary's kitchen_."

George had worried Mary would never see her lovely patterned bone china again, but she claimed, "What good are those dishes if they sit in the cabinet and never used only on holidays George? When we give them away, every day is a holiday." He need not be concerned; the plates always came back washed and whole, with a note of thanks and a polite request for more.

Cooking is not the only skill George mastered for Mary did a lot of research with the aid of her daughter at the local University. "It is called Braille, Mother, if father can learn it, he will be able to read again."

George, Mary and Wendy all learned it, paying a tutor to come to their home three nights a week to work with the Darling family. Soon Harry also took lessons and John in America with his six sons learned it as well. "There are not that many books that have been printed in Braille and they are hard to find and very expensive," the instructor told Mr. and Mrs. Darling, and Mary, believing in God and His almighty power, prayed that He would make available to her all the books in Braille the good Lord could, no matter what the cost. God listened and smiled down, proud of Mary Darling for finally showing proper appreciation of the glorious gift the man George truly was.

John in America contacted an institute located within the states that specialized in aiding the blind, although George would not admit he was completely without vision. "I can see, just not very well." Mary received a huge box filled with books printed in Braille from John and his family, donated for free. Harry had the same idea, and whatever books John did not supply he gathered the rest, not accepting any kind of payment from his brother for his time or expense. The church helped as well, presenting George with a copy of the Bible in Braille that he worked through first. He sat in the parlor after dinner and continually repeated to his wife, "I'm reading Mary, I'm reading. Cain just told God, 'am I my brother's keeper?'"

The best part for Mary was that George was the most developed in his new reading skills, therefore, while Mary worked arduously through a copy of _Little Women_, she became the one who asked for help, "What is this word, George, I don't remember this formation of points."

George would lean over, feel over the printed points and repeated the sentence to her word for word. _"I planned to spend mine in new music, said Beth…_that's what it says Mary…Mary, music!"

As George requested, music came next. His hearing was not as far spent as his eyesight, so as long as it was played loud enough, he could hear it. George and Mary purchased a Victrola, a beautiful piece of furniture to sit in their parlor that played recordings. It was quite expensive, but George felt some items were worth whatever they cost, no matter what the expense. The first month it was home, George, Mary, and Uncle Harry, would sit by it and listen to the same few records play over and over again. God need not help Mary this time, Wendy was far ahead of her mother, and used as much of her own money as she could spare, barring her own operating cost of running her makeshift school, and bought her parents an entire library of music albums.

So there they sat, George and Mary Darling in their parlor, reading Braille and listening to music together every evening. They had a schedule together, and they maintained it. They awoke at the same time, dressed, ate breakfast, took a walk, made cookies and lunch, and spent their afternoon working on their new lesson. They made dinner and ate with their family and then retired to the comfort of their sitting room for the night's enjoyments. Every day, George and Mary spent their afternoon learning together. Whether it be crocheting or sculpting, they tried and tried and tried until they mastered it, together, before trying something different. And every night when they retired back in bed, they spent at least an hour talking back and forth over their new adventures always ending with, "Today was the best day of my life, thank you for spending it with me. I love you, sweet dreams."


	61. Chapter 61 Out of Sight, Out of Mind

My Darling Love

Chapter 61 –Out of Sight, Out of Mind

_"Where there is great love, there are always wishes."_

_-Willa Cather_

With her parents off on their own adventures, Wendy Darling became a regular at her church; she went everyday and attended first, morning, afternoon, and evening mass. Eventually she began going alone -- Mary and George liked God in their life, just did not feel the need to constantly be a guest in His house. Wendy sat in the same spot everyday, the pew nearest the confessional where Father Dunange heard the sins of his parishioners. She arrived at first light and sat there, eyes glued to the front, waiting for him to emerge to light the candles lining the altar. He did, and she would stare, wondering what he was thinking as he knelt and said his prayers before heading to the confessional. At first, he did not notice her, only offering a polite nod, taking his place inside, but soon he became aware of her constant presence, and added a smile to his nod upon entering. Most days, no one had any wrongs they needed to right, so the confessional remained empty with him hidden behind the door, and Wendy, cowardly frozen in her place right outside.

As long as Wendy was alive and walking upon the earth, she would always remember the first time she saw Father Dunange in the flesh. She was attending Sunday mass with her parents, the second service of the day, when he entered and took his place beside the altar boys serving the monsignor who was saying the rite. He was a tall and very handsome gentleman, she hoped he was at least her age, maybe even slightly older, as he seemed to be. He had the darkest brown hair cut short, attractively neat, and she was sure by the waves present, even when neatly trimmed, that his hair could easily grow to long curly locks. And of course he had strikingly angelic blue eyes. His smile fit his face perfectly, warm and comforting. He was built well, with a commanding frame, more of a more like a soldier than a priest. To her, he was the most beautiful human being she had ever seen in her life, aside from the pirate captain who so long had held her heart, and in her eyes, they were identical twins.

"Do you not see the resemblance?" Wendy asked her parents for the one-hundredth time over tea as she held up one of her portraits of Captain Hook she kept in her private collection. Both George and Mary looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders and replied then to Wendy, "I'm sorry, dearest, we just don't see it."

Wendy held up the same exact portrait, _sans_ the pirate attire and curly locks, "This is not Father Dunange?"

Mary leaned in, as did George tilting his glasses for a better view, "I guess that looks like him," Mary replied, unimpressed by her daughter's fancy of a priest, nodding her head.

"Yes. I think you captured his likeness rather well," George added with a smile, faking an agreement, as he couldn't see a thing.

Wendy stared at her parents, shouting, "IT'S THE SAME PERSON IN BOTH PICTURES!"

"No, Wendy, that pirate has long dark hair and a funny hat. Father Dunange is a very well groomed man. And now that I look closer at it, there is something very different in his face. No, George, it is not a good likeness of the priest either," Mary said to George, who shook his head, confused and totally bewildered by both his wife and Wendy.

"How can you say that, I drew the same person, without the hair and the hat and the sword and the hook?"

Mary and George kept their indifferent attitude, "Well, dearest Wendy, that pirate and that priest are not one in the same. Like I said before, you did not draw Father Dunange correctly, he doesn't look at all like that."

Wendy jerked her head closely to the portrait of the priest, "What are you talking about, Mother, this is Father Dunange!"

Mary continued to shake her head, "I told you, Wendy, there is something very wrong with his face. I'm sorry, I just don't see it."

Wendy stomped up the stairs to her private studio in the attic and violently threw both portraits down, inadvertently ruining the one of Father Dunange, smearing off the face from the upper lip down. Then she saw it. Wendy had often wondered in their times together what Captain Hook would look like clean-shaven. She often asked him to remove the moustache and chin hairs he kept so elegantly groomed, he always refusing. "When we are married, I will cut them off, just for you. Without them, I look too … nice."

That day unfortunately never came, and now she knew. Wendy took a pencil in hand and sketched Captain James Hook's face from memory, dressing him in his most imperial and stately pirate garb, complete with hat and hook. This time, instead of spending an hour crafting in great detail the hairs that decorated his face, making him her James, she left his lip and chin bare, making him, at least in her eyes, the priest.

"Now do you see it?" Wendy asked Mary while she sat in the parlor reading to George from his favorite book unavailable in Braille. "Wendy, it must be some sort of sin to dress a priest up in a pirate costume." That was the reaction Wendy was waiting for, but it was not her mother who noticed the resemblance, "Mary, look at that, it's that new priest Wendy dressed up in her painting, like at a mask." It was her blind as a bat father.

Wendy danced back up the stairs, gloating as her first student arrived.

"George, you know you can't see your hand in front of your face, however did you see that silly painting? You should not encourage Wendy with such fancies. Anyway my love, it was the other way around. This time she dressed that pirate captain up as the priest." Mary remarked, slapping her husband's arm. George sat up in his chair rather insulted by her comment; he crossed his arms and did not reply. "I'm sorry George, but you know as well as I do--"

George raised his hand, not wanting her apology. "I can see, just not very well, and what harm will it do if we just agree with her. Maybe now she will move on…" Mary touched his arm to interrupt him; she smiled to him without retorting, and continued with her reading.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, it has been months since my last confession, although I'm not sure you can call it that," Wendy began, the first confession of the next day.

Father Dunange had not even had time to dress himself and say a prayer before Wendy bolted in and began speaking. She heard silence and whispered, "Its me, Wendy Darling."

The door between them slid back, exposing the grated window, and in his normal soft tone he replied, "I've been waiting for you to return to me."

Wendy smiled from ear to ear and leaned her face lovingly to the window, whispering, "James, I have missed you so…" She wanted to go on, but Father Dunange interrupted, "My dear child, I would ask that you not address me so informally in this sacrament, as matter of fact you should not call me by my proper title at all, for in this room, I am only standing in for God on this earth. What sins do you have to confess?"

Wendy wanted to cry at that moment, and so she did. She wept in that tiny booth with the window to God open well into mass and after. She missed every lesson with all the children that waited in her parlor that afternoon and well into the evening (they not wanting to leave on the hope she would hold one large class for all her students). Father Dunange sat, offering nothing but his presence to comfort her, as she shed tears of mourning for a pirate captain sent to hell by the devil himself. Wendy never got to say good-bye nor tell him how she felt, she never got to apologize for the years they were forced to live without one another. There was no grave to visit; there was no closure for her. The only part of him she had was what she remembered of him, and that too had faded with time, to her great regret.

As the candlelight of night crept in from under the door, Wendy got up and put her hand to the knob. "So much pain for a woman like yourself to suffer alone, it is the guilt you carry with you, the sins you think you've committed against others and yourself that makes you sorrowful. You must confess them to God, and he will ease your pain and shower you with mercy."

"If I know what I did was wrong, and God knows what I did was wrong, then why do I need to tell him anything?" Wendy shouted to Father Dunange banging her fist on the metal grate hiding him.

"There is a difference between knowing you are wrong and admitting it. God has given us the gift of free will; you chose to suffer in agony. Choose now to let go of it, choose to be healed, choose to admit the error of your youth, and then and only then you will not cry when you remember it."

Wendy sat back down, still in tears and began, "I loved someone more than I loved myself and he loved me the same…" Wendy went on, well into the night. The monsignor regretfully had to interrupt them, offering his apologizes to Miss Darling, who appeared to have been beaten, her eyes and cheeks were so red from weeping and from admitting her wrongs.

The conversation was two-sided, her recounting the intimate details of her youth from the time she first stepped onshore of Neverland. She named her sin, and gave explanation, "I couldn't tell my parents, so I lied. I was afraid they would forbid me to see him again." And Father Dunange, the spokesman for God, would correct, "You could have told your parents and you chose instead to lie, because you knew you were wrong in playing that dangerous game in the first place."

The next morning Wendy again arrived, and again was in the confessional even before Father Dunange entered. Strangely enough, he did not need her to whisper that she was waiting; he knew the moment he stepped down the aisle and saw her normal seat empty. "Good morning, Wendy, I believe we left off with you back at school, and the bad advice you received from girls you were friendly with."

There were certain parts of her story she found hard to give an account for, this being one of them. At times she felt as though she and Captain Hook were casually speaking like they used to on board the Jolly Roger, her leisurely retelling something of interest in a fanciful way, he correcting her whimsical mind and mouth. Therefore, when there were secrets not even Captain Hook was aware of, like the other boys that took Wendy to bed, she stuttered through with the constant repetition of, "And for that, I am truly sorry."

"It's all right, Wendy, there are many women that have taken other lovers before they were bound to their husbands in marriage. The sin is not accepting and understanding that making love is a sacred act two people share to show one another how much in love they really are. That is why I hear it is so much more pleasurable when the two people committing the act are bound to one another in covenant, and simply not common lovers. It is meant to be more than rubbing reproductive organs together in lust. There is a meaning behind it; it is blessed in the eyes of God. Therefore if it is done with the truest of intentions and love, even in God's eyes it is not a sin without a wedding ring."

After a week or so, Wendy felt so comfortable and comforted she referred to her characters by their real names, "James, that's my name," the priest replied the first time she spoke the name of the pirate captain.

"Whom were you named after?" Wendy was quick with the question, hearing the familiarity that often reared its head in their conversations.

"I was named by the nun that watched over me in the orphanage I was placed in as an infant, she honored me after St. James the Lesser."

Wendy did not know whom Captain Hook was named for, only that his mother's name was Jane, "That's nice to be named for a saint."

The only lie Wendy would not take back or admit was the one of her daughter Jane. She referred to her as "my little sister," even though she felt more and more each day that Father Dunange was truly her James. Members of the church, including the priests and nuns that served there believed Jane to be the daughter of Mary and George. Wendy knew how much her passing still hurt them; they visited her grave daily on their morning walks. Therefore she would not be the one to strip them of their right to her. "Jane Darling, I've seen her headstone in the cemetery, such lovely flowers your mother and father place there."

Wendy went on and on about Peter Pan, so much so that at times she was sure Father Dunange had fallen asleep on the other side of the window. She could tell, her eyes adjusted to the dim light and the barrier that kept them from one another, exactly which position he sat in as she rambled. He sat leaning his elbow on what she assumed was a ledge in his room with his head in his hand, his eyes closed. Wendy spoke of America, Peter taking her away when she found herself expectant, and all that transpired after with him as her escort. Father Dunange would grimace at certain parts, "He told me I was raped by a scoundrel, but that was just another one of his lies," and rub his face with a disgusted expression shaking his head as she recounted others, "I wanted to keep my baby, but he told me I had to give her away for he could never love her like I did. So I put her up for adoption, even though I didn't want to."

There were several points in their conversation where Father Dunange politely asked for a moment of silence, closing the door to her window, leaving her alone in the booth. "I loved Peter Pan so much, he made me happy. I didn't think I could live without him, so I trusted everything he told me …even after I discovered all his lies to me…"

It was a lot more than a moment with that revelation, and Wendy was sure she heard him crying on the other side. He returned and reopened the door to God, and Wendy was quick to speak her clarification, "I did love Peter at one time long ago, but not the way I loved James, never the way I loved James. And I loved him for the wrong reasons. Now that I think about it, I never loved him after I loved James. I only loved his money. I know I was wrong for choosing the easiest path. For that, I am truly sorry."

In the end, Wendy had said it all, "That's all I can remember, do you think I left anything out?"

Father Dunange was silent for a moment and then offered, "Your James, have you prayed for him? I know you have told me you pray for Jane, but what of him? Although he is deceased, you know, you still have to pray for him."

Wendy had not cried in quite awhile, feeling no need to as she acknowledged her mistakes, now her eyes once again burned as they filled with tears. "No, I haven't."

Father Dunange began saying his prayer of absolution, ending with, "Pray for him, Wendy."

Every day, she went in the morning and did not leave the church until nightfall. She canceled all her classes, to her students' dismay, hanging on a sign on the front door of her parent's house, "_No more classes with Miss Darling until further notice_." She spent her entire day holding his ear in the confessional, each day he gave her the blessing of absolution for the sins she divulged in that day, and a simple penance, one rosary. Now that she was finished, she was unsure of what came next, so she asked him, "Where do I go from here?"

"You go on, Wendy. It is not too late to have what you want in your life. You should get married and have a family of your own. You have made your peace with God, you are in his good graces, pray that He gives you a life you are worthy of."

Wendy left the confessional and took her place in the pew, saying one rosary for penance, and many more for Captain James Hook. As the latest hours came, Wendy still knelt, deep in her prayers. She hadn't noticed the priests that came out and extinguished the candles or put away the sacred artifacts of the church. Father Dunange opened the door to his booth and stepped out, a little surprised to still see her sitting there with the church locked up for the night. He sat down in her pew and waited for her to finish her round on the rosary.

"Wendy, the church is closed, you must go home." He turned his head to her and smiled.

Wendy sat up beside him, and gazed at his face, every feature from his eyebrows to the lines on his lips were the same as her Captain's.

"Why?"

She spoke of his likeness, beginning to cry, and he assumed she meant something different and answered, "Because priests need their sleep too."

"My mother told me when she was a young woman, she prayed to God to send her a husband that she could love and share her life with. He sent my father. And he's a good man who's always loved my mother and his children. Sure, there were times when I hated him, but all children hate their father at one time or another. But in end, all that doesn't matter, because I just ended up loving him again. I wish God would send me someone like my father, someone who works hard for his family and does the best he can. I'm too old to have children now, so I suppose if he were widower or something like that, it would be nice, and I would treat his children as if they were my own. I love children, all children. I'm just afraid when my parents die, I'll be alone. Old, alone and unloved."

Father Dunange handed her his handkerchief, to wipe her eyes. He was speechless, and had to wipe a tear that escaped his eye and ran down his cheek also. "Would you like me to walk you home, Wendy?" he mustered.

She declined, "No, I'll be fine," patting him on his hand as she took her leave.

With Wendy Darling walking home, already alone, Father James Dunange broke down in tears kneeling nearest the front altar. "Please, dearest God, don't let her die old, alone and unloved. Please make the love she feels in her heart and mind real. Send her a husband, bless her with children, watch over her and guide her always."

God was listening, and looked around all of London for someone to fit the description of her intended. Unfortunately, he found no one that fit the bill. Captain Hook leaned beside the Lord's throne with his arms crossed and cleared his throat, loud enough to gather God's attention. **_"Yes James."_** James Hook looked down and pointed the tip of his hook in the direction of a man who would be perfect for Gwendolyn on Earth. God thought Himself silly for overlooking the obvious and nodded his almighty head in agreement, causing Captain Hook to roll his eyes and stroll away leaving the Good Lord to it. Feeling Wendy Darling deserved the mercy she wished and prayed for, He made His best choice and gave His blessing.

Christmas, the happiest holiday for the Darlings, brought a houseful of guests which meant Wendy needed to break down her studio and move all her priceless works of art out into the greenhouse for safekeeping. She had begun teaching once again, and the room was cluttered with portraits of Father Christmas and Christmas Trees decorated for the season. John and his wife were coming, bringing with them their six children, two of his, two of hers and two they made together, and all of them would be staying in what was once the nursery. "Six sons, George, all with the last name of Darling." Mary squeezed him tightly in his chair, and called out to Wendy on her way to the bakery, "Make sure you don't take all day picking up the order, your brother and family are arriving this time tomorrow for Christmas Eve and we still have much to do."

Wendy shrugged her shoulders and shook her head; convinced her mother was going senile. The maids and housekeeper were making the place spotless; the cook was doing all the cooking, with the exception of the Christmas goose George and Mary were to prepare together. The grand party Mr. and Mrs. George Darling had planned for family and friends on Christmas evening was completely planned, which included over seventy-five guests crowding themselves into her parents' modest home for drinks, music, dancing games, and a jolly good time. Wendy casually strolled to the bakery around the block, the same one her Grandpa Joe used to own. As she put her hand on the door, she suddenly wished she would have thought better of her dress, hair and face, for inside was Father Dunange picking up an order for the church's soup kitchen.

"Hello, Wendy," he greeted her with his hands full of bags.

"Need a little help?" she offered, taking some of his burden. She noticed he only wore one glove on his right hand, the other left uncovered, "Oh no, I think you lost your glove," she said, holding the door with her foot so he could exit.

"No, I only wear one glove," he quickly responded, looking off down the street. "I haven't seen you in church lately, have something else better to do on Sundays?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"No, I teach on Sundays," she replied, strolling along with him carry half his load back to the church.

"What do you teach?"

"I teach art, you know, drawing, sculpting, that sort of thing." She kept her eyes to the pavement in front of her, trying her best not to meet his eye. In truth, she didn't teach on Sunday mornings, it was just too painful for her to see him, a constant reminder of the James she lost.

"Well, I imagine you would teach art. You have such a creative imagination. It's good that you use your talents to help others." They remained silent for the rest of the way to the rectory, James dropped his bags down in the church kitchen then relieved Wendy of her burden as well.

"Thank you, Wendy," he said, he too not wanting to catch her eyes. They both nodded to one another, with Wendy turning to leave alone.

"Wendy," Father Dunange addressed her to capture her attention, "Would you like to volunteer to work the soup kitchen on Christmas? I'm running it this holiday season." With his head tilted upwards, his eyebrow rose in anticipation of her answer, smile at the ready, Wendy was forced to close her eyes. The image of him standing that way on deck of the Jolly Roger asking her stay onboard as Red-handed Jill played over vividly in her memory.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that." The same expression of disappointment at her decline shadowed his face, and he offered a small smile of understanding. "I must go home and clean out my studio, my brother and his family are coming to stay until the New Year, and they will be spending their nights in the old nursery."

Where Captain Hook would bow at her and let her go with that, Father Dunange stepped forward, "Do you need help? I have some free time this afternoon. The nuns and parishioners won't let me near the ovens."

Wendy, surprised by his response, looked up and nodded her head with a bashful smile. "Yes, that would be lovely, do you know where I live?"

"I'll assume you can take me there yourself. I can go now. And then maybe on Christmas you can help me." He did bow with a raised brow, and again she smiled.

They walked together, first back to the bakery, "My grandpa Joe used to own this bakery," and then to her house, "I've lived here almost my entire life, just like my mother before me."

Wendy fluttered into her house calling for her mother and father, "Father, this is Father Dunange from church. FATHER DUNANGE! FATHER JAMES DUNANGE! FROM CHURCH! HE'S THE PRIEST FROM CHURCH."

She pointed to her ears and rolled her eyes, George giving the same gesture to his daughter signally he was not hearing a word she was saying. "My father's hard of hearing. My mother is the only one his ears seem to work for." She bit her lip smiling awkwardly to the priest. On the walk over, he'd told her she could call him James, and was now squinting at the ringing in his ears caused by her shouting. "Sorry." She grasped his hand and led him to where Mary was descending the stairs.

Mary was talking to her daughter, not paying attention, she rambled, "Good, you are finally back You are going to have to work all day and night to clear out that nursery, I told you, and you should have started that weeks ago. Some of those paintings you should either sell or give away, there isn't even a space to walk in. I thought you said the children were taking their projects home over the holiday? I have no idea where you are going to store all that stuff up there. You have the attic filled up just as much as the nursery. I guess you could use the greenhouse. And to make matters worse, now with all your sculptures lying around collecting dust, I'm surprised someone has not yet fallen and broken a limb," when she saw Father James watching her.

"Mother, this is Father James, from church." Mary quickly fixed her hair and smiled pleasantly to him, offering her hand, which he gently shook.

"It's nice to see you again Mrs. Darling." They stood staring at one another for a moment too long, Wendy noticing something odd in both their expressions.

"MARY, MARY HELP ME. I CAN'T GET UP FROM THE CHAIR!" George bellowed at the top of his lungs, and Mary broke their gaze, rushing past them, "Excuse me, my husband needs me."

"Wendy, help me!" Mary called to her daughter, as Wendy and James were halfway up the stairs. George was stuck in his chair and Mary was without the strength to lift him. Age had taken a lot from George, and now Mary not only needed to rely on herself, but their daughter as well.

"Allow me," James offered as he eased George to his feet.

"Oh look, Mary, a younger version of myself. Good man," George remarked, patting James on the shoulder as he gained his footing. "Now what was I getting up for?" George asked, gazing around the room, "Mary, did you call me to supper?"

Mary chuckled to herself, offering a contented smile to James, and replied, "No, George, you just finished lunch." George nestled back into his chair and flipped opened his book, "Good, because I'm still full from breakfast. Turn on the Victrola, Mary, and take a rest, you're getting too old to be running about this house like a youngster."

Wendy nudged James, tugging his jacket to direct him back to her studio, leaving her parents alone in the parlor. Out of nowhere and quite unexpectedly George whispered to Mary with them out of sight, "Mary?"

Mary was knitting a baby blanket of pink and shot George a quizzical expression, "Yes, George?"

George straightened himself in the chair and turned to his wife, "Wendy should get married, don't want my only daughter to die a spinster. Maybe that young man will want to wed our Wendy. They could live here and raise a family. It would be nice to have some granddaughters to add to the brood."

Mary smiled to George and then to the stairs, and then returned to her knitting. George was waiting for a reply so he called out, "MARY!"

Mary giggled and shushed George, "I'm right here beside you."

He scoffed at her silence, "Well then speak up woman! What do you think about that young man and our Wendy?"

"George, that man is a priest," Mary responded, holding his hand.

George leaned back and closed his book and spent some time staring at the ceiling above them with a quizzical face of ignorance as to what was going on. Poor George slumped down and over to Mary who was still knitting, "Why would he be a priest, Mary?"

Mary shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, George. I guess he went where the Lord sent him. Some men are called to the priesthood, just like others are called elsewhere, or so I am told."

George squinted his eyes to his wife, "Are we talking about the same thing, Mary?"

Mary bent into George and whispered, "Maybe, what are you talking about, George?"

George grinned at Mary, not wanting to give up something in his mind if she was not aware of what he spoke of, "I'm talking about the man Wendy has a fancy for. He is a priest? I thought he was a pirate captain?"

Mary put down her knitting and gave her husband a very questionable expression, "A pirate Captain George? Are you feeling yourself today? Father James is a priest. That is why I told you we should not be encouraging Wendy. Although it is possible he could have been a pirate captain at one time George…what do you think?" Mary offered with a mocking grin and a giggle.

George touched her cheek, "Oh, so now you are a jokester. Are not all the paintings our daughter creates of a pirate captain?" Before Mary could reply, George spoke up, "Forget I said anything, Mary, you're right -- a priest is a priest, and they go where the church sends them. Although I must say, it would be rather humorous to have a pirate captain for a son-in-law. Maybe it is Wendy that is not feeling herself. I wonder what time John and his family will arrive tomorrow?"

George went back to his book, not really reading and Mary went back to her knitting, not really doing that either. Mary looked back the stairs as Wendy and James came down with their hands full of her materials, and James making his way to the kitchen winked to her on the sofa. "I'm not sure what time John will be in, I hope he arrives for lunch…George, do you want to go out, maybe do some last minute shopping for the stockings?"

"Get your coat, Mary, I'll hail a cab…"


	62. Chapter 62 Father James, The Pirate

My Darling Love

Chapter 62 – Father James, The Pirate

"_There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists…"_

_-La Rochefoucauld_

Wendy had not realized how messy her studio was until she led James inside. Her mother was right, someone was bound to break a limb walking about inside. "There is a lot to move here," Wendy said, starting to pick up portraits leaning against the wall that she had already prepared to move. James also began to lift a few paintings hidden under a drop cloth, causing Wendy to jump across the room and over a dozen sculptures to stop him. "No!" she shouted, but too late, for he had already uncovered at least twenty sketches she had done of him.

Each portrait was different, some had him dressed in his priestly garb, others had him dressed as he was now, a casual gentleman in a proper slacks and shirt. With a little help from her mother, Wendy had finally cast him in perfect likeness to his true self, and now his face was everywhere in her work. In some he was smiling in others he held a more serious expression. She shook her head, biting her lip. "Sometimes I run out of ideas and I draw whatever comes to mind, you can keep them if you like…" she finished lamely.

Father James looked at them admiringly. "No, you keep them. I am honored you think of me enough to draw me. Maybe just one, though, this one." It was the only one Wendy wished not to be parted from, the first picture she drew of him in the regalia of Captain Hook. He held the portrait Wendy had improved on tenfold, adding paint and a frame to her original sketch, spending hours on every little miniscule detail to bring it to life. "I always wanted to be a pirate captain of great ship out of the seven seas when I was a boy." He exclaimed with a grin that ran ear to ear.

She touched her fingertips to the face frozen in time and looked up to him watching her. "Yes, you should have this. Something to remember me by." Wendy broke their gaze and went back to work.

"Remember you? Where are you going?"

"After my parents pass on, I think I am going to go live with my brother and his family in America, the spinster aunt for all those boys," Wendy replied, not her first choice to spend all the remaining years of her life, but the only one provided for her consideration at that moment.

"That's years away, Wendy, I'm sure both your parents will live for quite some time," James offered, gathering together the easiest items to stack and carry first for Wendy.

As he handed them to her she said softly, too low to be heard, "I hope so."

They spent the rest of the afternoon working hard, up and down the stairs, in and out to the greenhouse. Soon it was dusk, and Mary knocked on the nursery door, inviting them both to supper. "I would love to eat with your family," James told her, which made Wendy very happy to still enjoy his company.

Mary served dinner, giving George his plate first, James second, Wendy third and herself last. The dinner conversation was lively between James and Wendy, "I've been all around the world and back again several times," Wendy shared, while glancing to her mother Mary, who was listening but not offering her own comments. George didn't hear, trying hard to eat his steak without his teeth. After dinner came dessert, and after dessert came drinks in the parlor, which the priest, a guest in their home, graciously declined. "I have to get back, I have a lot to do tomorrow and I've already stayed later than I should have," James said after thanking Mr. and Mrs. Darling the honor of letting him eat at their dinner table.

"Any time, young man, you stop in for a visit," George grinned, raising his glass to James.

"Perhaps next time you will stay for a drink and to hear Wendy play the piano," Mary added as Wendy blushed, "Mother I have not played in years."

"Natural talents in music never fades, Wendy," James replied nudging her arm with his elbow. "Yes I would like that very much, Mrs. Darling, but I will only return if Wendy promises to tickle the keys while I am here." A mild hue of pink that normally filled Wendy's cheeks went bright red as she lowered her face.

"You should come the night after next, we are having a party," George shouted from his chair, as ever feisty, he pinched his wife's backside as she passed by to the sofa, making James fold in his lips to contain his laughter.

"I'm sorry I have to regretfully decline, I'm working the soup kitchen at the church on Christmas."

James left, and made it almost five blocks before he heard Wendy calling him. She raced up to him lugging with her the portrait she'd crafted of Father James, the pirate. "You forgot this," she managed out of breath handing it to him with a large smile.

"Thank you, Wendy," he replied, taking it from her and looking upon her handiwork once more. "Happy Christmas, Wendy."

Wendy nodded, still winded, "Happy Christmas, James," she bobbed up to him and stole a peck on the cheek, and then bolted back to her home as it had just begun to snow. Father James watched her until she was well out of sight, before turning again back to the church.

Wendy tried her hardest all the next day to reproduce the portrait of her beloved James, which she had given away. And, as her mother had predicted, her brother John arrived with wife and children in tow and wreaked havoc on their normal peaceful and quiet home. There was the banging of bags and the clomping up and down on the stairs. John's children, his own and his wife's were in their youth quite loud and obnoxious. The two smaller children they shared together were destructive, and anything not bolted down got broken. George sat in the middle of the mayhem and loved it, encouraging his family to "SPEAK UP!" when talking to him, only making the decibel level oppressive. Mary was no help, standing in the kitchen with John s wife, the cook and maids gossiping all morning and afternoon.

The supper table had seventeen people crammed at it, including the house staff that George insisted be treated like part of the family. Wendy couldn't hear herself think, let alone what was being said, and could not even move her elbows enough to lift a fork from plate to mouth. Dessert was no better, and the activities in the parlor only made matters worse. Seventeen people loaded into four cars to go to midnight mass, taking a pew up at the front. George, a proud man, was truly thankful to God for his family, and, in his old age, wanted more than anything to show them off.

Wendy sneaked away from the pack and took her usual seat nearest the confessional. Being midnight mass, the mass celebrating the birth of the Lord, there was a line to receive penance. Wendy waited patiently for her turn, and entered giving a sigh of relief for quiet.

The door slid open and another priest, not Father James, demanded, "Confess your sins!" Wendy jerked her head back, shocked by his demeanor and stated, "I confess that you are very rude and should be more kind on this holiday," rising from the kneeler and stalking to her normal seat.

She shook her head and looked up noticing James sitting a few pews in front of her. She gingerly moved to the pew behind him, trying not to seem suspicious in her actions. She knelt down and whispered into his shoulder, "Not hearing confessions tonight I presume."

He gave her his ear the moment he heard her voice and responded just as quietly, "It was I who needed my confession heard."

He quickly rose from the pew without looking at her, and headed to the front, a door nearest the altar Wendy always assumed was used by the priests to dress in. In his haste to flee from her, he collided with a nun who shook her finger at him. "Forgive me, God, but I love that man…" Wendy prayed the entire service. "Please let it be he, please, I beg of you. Have mercy on me a sinner and send my James home to me. I know how to love him now; I will be honest and not lie again ever. Please God, help me."

After midnight mass, the entire family went home and to bed, including the maids and cook, who slept under blankets in the parlor. Wendy hid out in the attic, sitting on the window ledge, thinking back to the day Captain Hook died. "He took the dagger for me. He turned me around and stood in my place, he knew that Peter was going to kill me, and he took the death for me instead." She heard her words ringing in her ear, and Father James' response that followed, "Loving someone gives you strength, and that person loving you just as much gives you courage. You mustn't blame yourself for his death, Wendy, he chose of free will to make that sacrifice. He will be rewarded in heaven."

In the morning, the house was abuzz with the same noise and mayhem as it had been on Christmas Eve, only this time it was the ripping open of presents and boxes filled with all the gifts Mary and George wanted their children, grandchildren, family and friends to receive from them.

Wendy watched in the doorway, wanting to escape out into the brisk morning, "I'm going to take a short walk," she whispered to her mother who nodded her approval, to get some air and freedom.

Wendy strolled down the street, past the church and noticed all those homeless and destitute gathering in the doorway to the mission, waiting for the yearly Christmas meals, breakfast, lunch and dinner given to those less fortunate. "How can I help?" Wendy asked a nun with a dirtied apron on from the pancake batter that continually splattered on her from the hot griddle.

"Can you cook?" Wendy nodded. "Then you can cook," she directed, handing over her duty to the Darling's spinster daughter.

The lunchtime crowd rolled in and Wendy was still elbow deep in heavy kitchen duty. Aside from herself, there were only three other elderly women volunteering that Christmas to help the nuns, who knew nothing of running a kitchen.

"Where is Father James?" one of the nuns growled, who had burned her hand on a hot pot.

"Still in conference with the monsignor and the bishop, he'll get here when he can," shouted another, covered in butter and syrup, glaring at Wendy who was still hard at work by the ovens.

"They are talking about that one over there," another nun sneered also shooting her glares toward poor Miss Darling.

"Less and less people offer to help every year, I understand it's hard, having a family and all to entertain, but we must not forget to help those first who cannot help themselves," a flustered old woman jabbered to Wendy as she washed dishes.

Later in the day, Father James came down and began reassigning jobs as more people came to donate their time. Unfortunately for Wendy, she was stuck serving food as Father James remarked, "You've done your time at the sink and at the ovens," without another word.

There she stood, shoveling food to the poor and destitute, wondering if her parents had ever waited in line to be served like this on the holiday. Every so often, she would glance to the clock that hung above on the wall and imagine what her family back at home was going, "Probably getting ready for supper …"

Wendy missed breakfast, lunch and dinner with her family, eating her Christmas feast alone at a table in the mission. The other parishioners helping out, all old biddies, sat together and gossiped about the "crazy spinster daughter of the unfortunate George and Mary Darling." The first to speak up, oddly enough, was a nun who took her rest with the older women, "She and Father James have a rather unspeakable relationship going on. The Monsignor and the Bishop have warned him already several times about limiting his contact with her. I've seen it with my own eyes you know, she spends all her free time chatting up a storm with him in the confessional from sunrise to sunset. To think, the nerve of that girl, in God's house right under His nose."

With that topic of conversation brewing, another went as so far as to resurrect ghosts of the past long forgotten by reminding everyone who would listen, "No wonder no one wanted to marry her, I heard she was very loose with her virtue, like her mother when she was a young girl. Tarts like that never change. So she thinks she will steal a priest from the cloth. God should strike her down where she sits." All present agreed and in unison smirked toward Wendy and waved.

She was aware they were talking about her, but had already accepted for herself the type of woman she turned out to be, the reputation she would carry to the grave. "I'm just glad her grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth are dead. Another scandal, this time with a priest, it would ruin the family's good name more than it already has."

Wendy stayed later than everyone else, finishing up the last of the dishes, helping a few nuns wipe the counters and the floors of the kitchen, making sure everything was spotless before gathering her coat, ready to leave. Father James had avoided her all afternoon and evening, purposely moving away from her if he even suspected she was looking in his direction. Wherever she was, he wasn't, including during her Christmas dinner. Wendy was left sitting alone while the group of rumormongers saved him from 'that seductive she-devil' by insisting he sit with them. As he took his place in between the nun with a bad attitude and her friend the rumor resurrector, he heard, "Here, Father James, we saved you a seat," said in a joyous cheer of good will, "We are saving your reputation as well," in a whisper with a finger pointing directly at Wendy Darling.

The end of Christmas Day came, and Father James had not said one word to Wendy aside from his early request that she serve the food, and, "Thank you for all your hard work today, Wendy," complete with a wave as she left. Wendy waved back without looking or smiling, just to be polite.

Before she made her journey home, Wendy went to the cemetery and knelt at Jane's grave brushing her hand over the engraving on her headstone, repeating the words for herself as her fingertips swept over them, "I shall find peace, I shall hear angels, and I shall see you living in the sky filled with diamonds. Happy Christmas, Jane and James, my darling loves."

Wendy leaned in and kissed the cold marble marking the grave where her little girl slept beneath the ground in peace. She rested her head against it and then embraced the stone, holding it tightly to her.

"I thought I would find you here." Mary spoke up from behind her. "Your father and I were worried when you didn't come to supper."

Wendy straightened her dress and wiped her eyes, "I volunteered at the church mission serving supper to the poor." Mary gave Wendy her hand to help her up, but instead she only hugged her mother about the waist, still on her knees, a flesh and bone person that could hug back and truly did.

Mary, too, now shed tears as she clutched her daughter. "You know, Wendy," Mary moved her daughter's head up to face her, brushing hairs from Wendy's eyes, "in this moonlight, with you so short on your knees, you remind me of the child you once were, so full of life and magic. Has it really been that long? All the years your father and I are together, and it seems like only yesterday I climbed down from my bedroom window to run away with him. I can still see him that way in my mind, looking up to me."

Mary held both her hands to her face to stop the tears that suddenly fell down her cheeks. "The morning of your father's heart attack, we made love like we were newlyweds again. That was the last time we ever were together like that. I always think back that, had I known that was the last time I was ever to feel him like that …" Her mother dropped to her knees as well, holding Wendy hard. "Now I think, whenever I speak with him, or say good-morning or good night, I wonder if those are the last words he'll hear. He's dying. I know he is. Your Uncle Harry said this will be his last Christmas, no more ever after this. What do you say to someone you've spent your whole life loving when you know in your heart they are the last words they'll hear? I can't live without your father, Wendy, I can't go on without him. I will never be able to face another day knowing he will not be there to see it with me. I can't look forward to happiness and joys without having him there to share it with. I know the vows say until death parts us, but there has to be something else, something else stronger that make it last longer than that …"

Wendy cried too, now hugging her mother around her neck. They both let go at the same time and wiped each other's tears away, "What ever will become of us?" Wendy smiled through her heartache, as her mother broke down again, leaning her head on Wendy's shoulder. Wendy stoked her mother's hair, kissing her head, which Mary lifted touching her hands to Wendy's face, cupping her chin; "I know you see Captain Hook in Father James. We see what we need to see, Wendy. We see what we must see to survive. I look at your father, and as old and decrepit as everyone says he is, I swear I still see him looking up to me from the street below, I see him that morning we woke up together after making love for the first time. I see him holding you when you were first born, and John and Michael and Jane. I don't see him old, I don't see the gray hair, and I don't see the wrinkled face. Every time I look at him, I see him as I remember him best, madly in love with me, so young to the world."

"Captain Hook was real. He was real, mother, he was." Wendy wept touching her Mary's face in the same manner, them both nodding in agreement.

"Yes, Wendy, he was real, for you alone loving him made him that way."

"And now its too late, he's gone and Jane's gone and it's all my fault!" Wendy cried into her mother's chest, oceans of tears shed in a cemetery on Christmas night. Mary ran her fingers through Wendy's hair. Years and years had passed, and still she preferred to wear it long, cascading down on its own regard.

As Wendy's last tears fell, her mother squeezed her, "It's alright, Wendy, when I learned of his passing, I cried too. That's why I'm scared. I think of your father, when he is gone, whom will I go to when I need comfort and love? Who will I share my secrets with, my dreams? How will I go on without him there every day to remind me of what being in love is like?"

Mary tugged Wendy's arm, helping her to stand, "I promise, Mother, as long as I am alive you will never be alone. And you can always love the part of me that belongs to Father. That is why God gave me to you in the first place, so you will always have a part of Father."

Mary smiled and kissed her cheek, abruptly turning to check the hand mirror she carried in her purse to fix her face, "Whatever will your father think?"

Mary fiddled with her disheveled hair, turning to fix Wendy's. "He will think you are beautiful," Wendy told her, "because you are."

Mary kissed Wendy's cheek once more, "You are far more beautiful than I, Wendy, for you have your father in you." She wiped the tears from her own cheeks. "You should not blame yourself, Wendy, for the fates of Captain Hook and baby Jane. They were not gifts to us to keep forever, they were only priceless treasures loaned to us by God, who expected them back in timely manner."

Wendy giggled, "You make them sound like library books, Mother."

Mary wrapped her arm around Wendy as they began their stroll home, "God puts some people on this earth, and their calling takes them a lifetime to accomplish, and even then when they die they still did not finish what they started. Then there are others who are given vocations that they complete quickly, and God, just as quickly, calls them back to him and rewards them for their loyal duties. I know in my heart that Captain Hook is with God in heaven, for he has earned it. Jane will return to this earth again, because she deserves to experience life and all it has to offer, especially the part of all of us that grows up."

Mary and Wendy arrived home, through the back door, so as to not cause a stir with the guests still enjoying the party. There was music and dancing, good food, wine and happy spirits shaking their modest home on its foundation. "Here, I brought this down for you." Mary had picked a fancy gown special for her daughter when she and George did their last minute Christmas shopping, complete with matching slippers, shawl and stockings all the same hue of periwinkle.

"This is not mine," Wendy said in awe, gazing at the lovely fabric.

"Yes, it is, Happy Christmas. One of your gifts, you can unwrap the rest later," Mary told her, tilting her head to the pantry, "Change in there, I lied to your father, I told him you were in the kitchen helping."

Wendy had already begun to unbutton her blouse heading to the closet in the kitchen, "Only a partial lie, I was in the kitchen helping, just not this one." Wendy winked to her mother.

"Do you need help dressing?" Mary offered, as Wendy shook her head staring at the gorgeous dress once more on the hanger before closing the door behind her.

George Darling sat in his favorite chair playing cards, high stakes poker, with his old friends from the bank, betting back and forth, drinking liqueur and smoking cigars that stank up the parlor. Sitting next to him was his youngest grandson, a child who would one day be a man that would walk on the face of the planet named George Darling as well. The cards were dealt and George Junior would tap on his grandfather's arm in their own secret code the card face and suit. "What do you think I should do?" George would whisper to his grandson who would smile about the table and then tap another secret message George always agreed with. The last hand was thrown down, with George winning, before the piano struck up again and everyone who was not yet drunk began jigging about the parlor and into the hall.

"Come, Father, dance with Mother!" John shouted, spinning his wife around.

"Dancing is for the young, such as yourself, John!" George bellowed back toasting them with his glass. George stared up to Mary who was watching the festivities with a large smile of happiness when George commented, "Not to mention, John, your mother is a horrible dancer!" as John and his wife spun by again.

"I didn't mean that, Mary."

George clutched her hand, she looking down at him not having heard his comment. "What didn't you mean, George?" George shut his eyes to hold in the tears that filled them, opening them swiftly to wipe his face with a handkerchief that knocked his glasses to the floor. Mary bent down and picked them up, kneeling before him to help him reaffix them properly to his face. "George, what's wrong?" Mary too held back tears waiting to take their leave of her eyes, as George wept into his handkerchief, all as the party and people danced by.

"You should be with someone, Mary, someone who can dance you around on your toes and make love to you like you want. Not me, not someone old and dying like me."

Mary held her head up with her eyes shut tight to hold back a sob, "George, I see you the same way you see me, you are the same man I married, the same man who has loved me all these years. You are just as handsome to me and as strong in your heart as the first time I ever laid eyes on you. There is not another man in the entire universe that will ever take your place in my heart. Remember that."

Mary stood up; grabbing a wine glass someone had left on the side table and began tapping the side with a spoon to gather everyone's attention. The room silenced, just as Wendy made her way down the hall to the entranceway where her mother stood and father sat to watch. "George and I want to thank everyone for coming tonight to share this holiday with us. We've always felt that, on this blessed day, the most important thing to have is family and friends to spend it with, for he who has friends and family that love him, is the wealthiest of them all." A round of "hear-hear!" passed over the crowd with guests raising their glasses as Mary knelt down again in front of George clutching his hands and began speaking in the same loud tone.

"George Darling, I love you more than anything in this world, more than the stars in the sky or all the flowers in every garden on this green earth, or the heavens in all their glory. I want to thank you for honoring me by choosing me as your wife, entrusting me with your children, giving me a happy home to raise them in, and helping me along every day of my life. I am sorry for the times I hurt you, or were not there for you when you needed me most. Thank you for looking past my faults and forgiving me. Thank you for being my pillar of strength when I was too weak to stand, thank you for being my brave and courageous knight that protected me when I was too frightened to step out of the darkness into the light. Thank you for taking care of me when I was sick, thank you for loving those I love simply because I loved them. Thank you for listening to me when I speak and hearing me when I need to be heard. Thank you for giving me your voice when I was silent and your heart when mine was broken." Mary let all her tears fall she spoke. Each tear that rolled down her cheek, George wiped with his hankie, he too was crying.

"You are my life, George. Everything I am is only because of you, there has never been a day that has passed that I am not thankful that God answered my prayers and sent you to me. I'm sorry at times I was blinded by my own selfishness not to see you. I love you, George Darling. I can't find the words to tell you all that I have in my heart and soul. I'm sorry, I can't go on any further." Mary turned to crowd encircling them, not a dry eye in the house. "I love you, George." Mary fell into his hug and kissed his face. She leaned into his ear and whispered just for him to hear, "When you get the heaven's gate and you meet Saint Peter, please ask him to send for me immediately and without delay."

George held Mary tighter as she spoke and nodded his head, both weeping with the guests watching. Wendy made her way into the parlor and nudged the piano player off his seat. She fixed her dress and began playing a slow waltz, pinching her brother John. "Oh yes, EVERYBODY DANCE!" he shouted getting her silent message and so they did.

Mary tried to pretty her face, still kneeling by George, but to no avail, "You look stunning, Mary," he smirked proudly to her, she only shaking her head, "It's no use, I shall spend the rest of the night with rouge smeared all over my forehead."

"Mary," George clasped her hands, pulling her near, "I am not going to die tomorrow."

Mary gave him a quizzical expression and then softened it, remembering he was not aware of the doctor's diagnosis of his heart ailment. "Of course not, George."

He shook his head back to her, "Help me stand." She did with the aid of John, and arm in arm, they walked about the crowd. "I know about my heart, Mary, I don't need Harry to tell me. It's just; I know God would never take me off this earth before I get to walk my daughter down the aisle to her husband. We've had this bargain for years, your father, God and me. I promised Grandpa Joe that when I walked Wendy down the aisle, I would do it the right way, beaming with pride no matter what the circumstances were, he even left money in his will so she could have a regal and glorious wedding, to make up for the one we never had. So I prayed to God, and I have to tell you I've been praying to him so much lately I think when I finally do get to heaven we'll be on a first name basis, and asked Him to at least do me that honor. You see, Mary I know I will see Wendy get married, and maybe, just maybe there will be enough blessings left over that I can hold our first grandchild by her."

They both watched Wendy play the waltz and then begin another more joyful Christmas tune, which struck everyone up into a carol of voices singing, "Oh holy night, the stars are brightly shining..."

"Mary," George caught his wife attention and with a stern and quite serious face he informed her, "I will die before you, and you will live on long after. And you must promise me, you will live and love and be happy..."

God sat in heaven looking down with His elbow resting on His knee, holding His hand under His chin waiting. He was not about to strike Wendy Darling down where she sat hours before, eating her supper with the poor, nor was He angry that she and James began their unknowing courtship in His house. Truth be told, He preferred it that way, for that was the only way He could be assured there was to be no more lying. So there He sat on His throne, waiting.

Not only waiting, but rather growing impatient, He turned His eyes for a moment over to where Father James knelt and prayed by his bed, ready for sleep, and listened, "Bless Wendy on this sacred night for her selfless acts and help her find her way. I know she wants that life with a husband and family, make her a wife and a mother, dearest Lord …"

"Oh brother…" Captain Hook whined from where he stood nearest the Lord's throne and shook his head. He stalked off out of sight without another word leaving God to sigh deeply as He rose from his throne to stretch His arms out, giving a great big mighty yawn. **_"Free will, Father James, you must remember you have free will…"_**


	63. CHapter 63 All the Winters That Have Be...

My Darling Love

Chapter 63 – All the Winters That Have Been

_"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."_

_-James Baldwin_

The Christmas Party lasted well into the next day, with most taking their leave after the sun was already up, blazing in the sky. George made it until three, and then retired to his bed with Mary by his side, telling their guests, "Please, stay and enjoy yourselves." The elders of the group left, leaving the younger ones, fresh in life and love, to welcome the morning hours, drinking, dancing and making merry. Wendy tickled the keys until her back ached and then she, too, headed to the attic as the first light of dawn rose on the horizon. But she did not sleep. She gently packed away all the portraits and sculptures she had crafted of Captain Hook and Jane, and placed them neatly in the back storage closet, farthest away from her in the attic. It was the place Mary kept all her own knick knacks and house things that were too old and out of date to leave at hand, but which still contained too much of the past to throw away.

_"There will never come a time in your absence, my dearest Gwendolyn, that I have not seen your face in my mind and dreamed you were with me through all the winters that have been…"_

Written in Captain Hook's own hand, Wendy had grabbed his journal off his desk in the cabin of the Jolly Roger as she fled with her father and Peter Pan as Neverland was dropped from existence into the fires of hell. It was the only thing he had written in the journal, except for her name on the first page dated that very night. Wendy rubbed her hand over the indentations on the parchment and kissed the leather covering engraved with his name.

She went to her drawing board and began once again, using her paints and brushes to make her masterpiece. Captain Hook standing at the rail of the Jolly Roger, with snow and ice freezing the sea, as the gracious lights of heaven were raining down on him through the clouds in the sky, clouds that shadowed him alone in darkness. Instead of his smile she always cast his likeness in, she gave him a sorrowful expression of wonderment at all that could have been if she were there. "This is how I shall remember him always, as he truly was."

As she finished later that same day, she hastily dressed and sprinted to the carpenter who lived down the street and around the block, giving him a sketch and measurements of two frames she wanted crafted by her design, and the payment for his work in full.

Wendy made her way home just as fast, and began her second work, a painting for her mother. She started on the steps of her house and drew an outline of what she wanted and then scrapped the idea, getting a better one as a couple in love hailed a cab in front of the Darling house and got in. Her parents were awake and having breakfast when she blew in and whispered something in her father's ear. He looked toward Mary and nodded his head.

"What is it, George?" Mary asked as Wendy shot up the stairs, to which he responded, "She wants to draw a bird that sits in a tree outside our room, she wanted permission to enter there to do so." Mary shrugged her shoulders, going back to her eggs and coffee, George smiling to her while returning to his paper.

At her mother's bedroom window, Wendy gazed down at the street below and began drawing. She looked quickly below and back to her pad, moving her hands using a pencil to get every detail. When she felt ready, she returned to her attic workspace and began. It went much slower than with Captain Hook, Wendy found herself stopping repeatedly to close her eyes and gather her thoughts. She listened to her heartbeat and concentrated on her breathing, pleading with her mind to free the earliest memories that she had of her father. In the solitude of the attic, with the house a bustle of activity and noise below, she glimpsed at her father through her mind's eye as her mother had always seen him.

Although she could not remember the specific moment that replayed in her mind, she saw George full of life, young, handsome and strong. He was wearing a suit and looking up to her with a smile full of love and adoration. "It's all right, Wendy, daddy will make it better," he said, and her perspective pulled away to see Wendy the child, in her nightgown sleepy eyed and crying, race down the stairs and run into his awaiting arms. He cradled her and picked her up, she no more than two or three, and he, her father, valiantly carried her back up, soothing her, "There is no such thing as monsters that steal away your dreams, for my dearest child, that is only a nightmare from which you have awoken safe and sound. But have no fear, my love, for no matter what, daddy will always be there to rescue you and carry you home."

That was the face she put into her painting, the expression of love and adoration, looking up to her mother, dressed in white, leaning out her bedroom window. And on Sunday morning as her family dressed for church, she presented it to her parents as their belated Christmas gift in their bedroom.

Before opening the fancy wrapping, George commented, "Wendy, you gave your mother new knitting needles and yarn and you gave me a new scarf, hat and gloves, that was plenty."

Both Mary and George were speechless as Mary tore into the wrapping, her seeing George's perfectly handsome face gazing up at her as the first piece of paper was ripped away. "Oh, Wendy!" Mary gasped as the rest was revealed. George stood up without aid to get the best look he could, placing his old eyes only an inch from it, "Was I really that handsome to you, Mary?" he asked as he inspected every detail Wendy had so eloquently placed upon the canvas.

"Yes, George, and that handsome to Wendy as well."

"That is not for you, Father, that is for Mother. This is for you." Wendy handed her father a small box, it was velvet and faded with time. "I found this when I was storing some of my portraits and sculptures in the attic. It's not from me, it's from your wife."

George opened the box and inside was two gold cuff links Mary had intended to give him the Christmas she was forced to spend with Captain Hook. They had a three small jewels encased on the face of the link, diamond, emerald and alexandrite, the birthstones of their children together. George could no longer see it, for his eyes failed him, but it was there, engraved around each stone the initial of the child the month belonged to. The meeting place of the letter "W" held the diamond for Wendy, as was the same for the "M" of Michael who was born in July. The emerald of May was joined in the middle of the "J" for John. Above the cuff links was a tie pin, an emerald and ruby stone for George and Mary with the date of their true marriage in July, not the formal service in November to recognize what God had already accepted and blessed. George could not see that either, but running his fingertip over the gold, he knew it was there. George blinked his tears from his eyes, and directed his wife, "Mary, help me put these on." She did, he catching her while she fixed his tie, and caught her in a kiss that made Wendy quietly excuse herself, closing the door to their bedroom softly, giving them privacy.

"However did you afford this, Mary?" George asked when their kiss ended.

"I can't tell you, George, I'm afraid you will get angry," Mary replied, holding on to his embrace for dear life.

"Mary," he spoke as he shifted her head to his face with his hand, "I won't be angry, please tell me." Mary kissed his cheek and then his lips once more. "Do you remember the cameo pin Margaret wore on her wedding day?"

George nodded, "The old or was it the borrowed?"

Mary shook her head, "It doesn't matter, Wendy borrowed it from a friend, her friend, George," Mary's voice gave a hint to her meaning without saying the name. "Wendy forgot to take it back with her when she left. I met that friend, I returned it, but he said for me to keep it, pawn it to buy you a Christmas gift because I had no money to buy you a present, and I wanted so much to get it for you. It was to be my own peace offering to you. I forgot after all the years I hid it away in the attic."

George smiled and pulled his wife in for one more kiss before Harry interrupted with a knock on their door, "We'll be late, it's a sin to be doing that stuff on a Sunday morning!" he joked from the hall outside.

"I wish I could still make love to you, Mary," George spoke as his wife fixed him and herself before opening the door and helping him up. "I miss that a lot."

Mary concurred with a bashful smile, taking her hand in his. "One night, George, just one last time, I know we will."

George liked that idea, and carried those thoughts with him on the ride to church and throughout the mass. Mary held in her mind the fantasy of them together in that intimate way up above in the sky on a puffy cloud, "Oh heavens," she whispered to her husband when he ran his hand up her leg to her bloomers in the middle of the service. "Maybe twice more, Mary …" George silently spoke back moving her hand to the bulge in his pants hidden underneath his coat.

Wendy decided, that morning in church, as Father Dunange said his first mass since being assigned to the parish, that maybe her eyes and ears did deceive her. The resemblances she would swear on her life were there, were only figments of her imagination, for not another soul, now, including herself, would ever be able to say the priest and her pirate captain were one in the same. She saw of him what she needed to see and hear to survive. Captain Hook was lost in the fires of hell, but soon lifted to the heavens by God himself, for he had earned a place there above the clouds in peace. He would be there to take care of Jane and watch over her, something he could never do in Neverland, and that eased her mind and alleviated her heart enough to go on.

In Wendy's mind during mass, she saw Jane and James dancing together on stars in the night sky, jumping and twirling from one to other. "They will look down on us and keep watch over us, angels they were among us. Pray for them," Mary whispered to Wendy as the monsignor gave his sermon directing all to remember loved ones who had died and were buried.

December was a cold month, January even colder. It snowed almost every day, locking most inside their homes, sheltered from the freeze in the warmth of their families. Wendy spent that month re-assembling her studio, donating her portraits openly to whoever wanted them. The maid took several she had done, sketches of summers on an exotic island, watercolors of oceans with plentiful waves, all drawn from her memory.

When the walls and floors were bare of her creations, she did as the priest had told her and went on. She painted more common items, teapots and flowers, scenes for her window of the tall buildings being raised that touched the sky. Her students still delighted in the fanciful adventures, drawing gingerbread houses and three bears eating breakfast at the kitchen table with a blonde headed girl peeking in through the window. Wendy kept busy teaching, taking in more students, working from breakfast to well past nine at night. Instead of staying awake until the wee hours of morning in her own imagination, she turned off the lamp in the nursery and went to bed after her final child left and her late night snack was eaten.

It was hard for her to be trapped inside all the time, though, she preferred to be out in the fresh air, no matter what the weather was like, so in the first week of February, when she could stand the confinement no more, she grabbed her drawing pad and trudged through the ice and snow to the park.

"Wendy, you'll catch your death, there is a foot of snow outside," Mary called after her as she dressed in her coat and Wellingtons. Wendy wanted to retort, "Good, I hope so," but the voice inside her heart said quicker, "Don't worry, Mother, I'm wearing three sweaters, cotton underwear, a pair of Father's trousers, four pairs of socks, coat, hat scarf and gloves, I'll be fine. And the moment I come home, I promise to take a hot bath and change out of my wet clothes."

After clearing a park bench, Wendy sat down and sketched a winter scene, losing herself in her work, unaware she was being watched. "Have not seen you in church for a few weeks," Father Dunange spoke up, taking a seat on the bench beside her. "Seems you found the only place in all of London, not covered in snow."

Wendy glanced up from her picture, hating to be interrupted while drawing, and remarked, "Well, I swept away the snow before sitting down." She still moved her pencil over the paper, conscious of his presence beside her, and so she offered, "Can't imagine you've see too many people in church these past weeks with the weather."

"No, there are those who make a way there no matter what," he responded leaning over her shoulder to gaze at her winter wonderland on paper.

"Obviously I am not one of those people," Wendy answered, slamming the cover of her pad down, hiding her drawing from sight. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude," she said as he backed away to the other side of the bench with her gesture, "I just don't like people seeing what things I've drawn before they are completed." She offered a pleasant smile, and turned her head toward him, he still holding his stare.

"Where are you from? Dunange? My mother said France?" she asked, feeling it best to start a new conversation, as the one they were engaged in was not well-suited for a pleasant afternoon away from her home.

"Yes, Dunange is French, but I'm not really sure where I am from originally. I was placed in an orphanage when I was still an infant. I was raised there."

Wendy nodded her head solemnly, such a sad tale, "No one adopted you? Where were your parents?"

James shrugged his shoulders, "No, no one wanted me. I don't know where my parents were, I guess they didn't want me either."

Such a sad tale not to be wanted, and if love is the lesson of childhood, how can it be learned if even then you are not wanted? Wendy loved all children, especially infants so tiny and cuddly, always wanting to be held and kissed. She doted on her nephews, even if they lived across the ocean in America. She was not there for her sister-in-law's first two children's births, she still being married to the man that made her a widow, and Wendy was also missing when Joseph and Edmund were born. But she was there, making a special trip on a ship to see the youngest of her brother's children, Michael and George, safely delivered into the world. Wendy couldn't imagine anyone not wanting them, remembering them wrapped in a blue blanket screaming to be fed and changed. For Father Dunange as he held his expression of acceptance of his fate to be unloved, Wendy still could not fathom that simple "not wanting."

"That's ridiculous, why would they not want you?"

James lifted his right hand and removed the glove he always wore to cover it. Even as he said mass, the normal black leather he preferred had been replaced, attired with another of white cotton. "I was born with a deformity."

The palm of his hand was there, but the fingers were not. In their place, someone had crafted a metal glove that attached to his elbow with fingers of wood. "What happened to your fingers?" Wendy asked, moving closer to get a better look at what made him malformed and unwanted.

"I was born without a hand, the palm is just a lighter shade of wood." He tapped on it to show her error.

"I do not think that just being born without a hand could make you unwanted. Maybe your parents both died and there was no other family to take you in. But even then, someone somewhere probably wanted you but…" she paused as he replaced the glove to cover the prosthetic limb, and he cut short he consolation of his situation with a clarification of sorts.

"It was not only my hand, I have a deformity of the arm running up to my shoulder blade as well. My joints are stiffened, which makes moving them difficult at times. My hand and arm are the reasons why I cannot serve mass any longer."

Wendy did her best to give him a genuine smile full of encouragement, and she went as so far as to pat him on the shoulder saying, "You did fine at the service that I saw."

He nodded looking ahead, "Yes, but that was the first and the last. It is too difficult for me to move around freely without having the worry I will knock something over that should not be broken in the church. I will just hear confessions, that suits me fine anyway."

"You seem to be very capable with your arm, did another priest say something to you?"

James shook his head, "No, I just don't feel comfortable performing for an audience. I find I do my best work in the darkness and shadows."

Wendy still smiled and opened her pad, showing him her drawing of the pond covered in snow and the trees surrounding it covered in white. "That's lovely, Wendy, may I see your other sketches?" He too smiled. Wendy handed him her pad, and he glanced through her teapots and flowers coming upon a portrait in colored pencils Wendy had drawn of her mother Mary. Father Dunange looked at that one the longest, brushing his fingertips over her lips and neck, "Your mother?" he asked when he noticed her watching him.

"Yes, I drew that a very long time ago, the first Christmas I came home after being away for so long. She was sitting down at the dining room table when I entered wearing that face, she always seems so happy, but on that night she was so sad. I don't know -- it's foolish. She looks like she wants to run away from whatever it was she was thinking about. Almost like she knew what was coming next…"

Wendy yanked her pad away from him and closed it shut.

"It's getting colder as the sun will soon set on another day. Would you like me to walk you home?" James asked, rising from his seat extending his artificial hand to her, wanting to lift the tension that engulfed their exchange.

"Thank you," she replied clasping it as he pulled her up to her feet with more force than necessary, causing her to lose her footing and fall on top of him in a heap of snow.

They both laughed and caught the other's eye with a look Wendy knew was too familiar to be anyone else's but her Captain's. "My mother died right after I was born, my father had already passed," James whispered to Wendy.

There was pain of loss in his face, not to mention the desire of wanting to be loved by someone somewhere. Wendy moved her mouth down gently to his lips with her eyes closed waiting to feel their softness against her own. James saw her expression; he knew what she was feeling inside, for he had dreamed of that moment -- that real kiss -- also. But he was a priest, in God's presence since his birth; no woman before on earth had ever kissed him, and he knew the sin that would be committed and it's cost as she leaned toward him.

"I can't, Wendy -- I'm so sorry." James touched his hand to her lips as Wendy opened her eyes and jerked her head back. Before he could even open his mouth to give her some sort of words to describe his own inner conflicts, she was up and running.

She raced the entire way home and up the stairs, locking herself in the attic as if a crazed murderer was on the loose and after her. Mary was in the hall when she rushed in and she froze in place, terrified someone was in fact chasing her daughter. "Wendy, is something wrong?" she heard her mother calling from the bottom of the stairs.

"No, mother I am fine, I just got very cold and wanted to change," she quickly called down so her mother would not come up the stairs. She sat on the bed, still in her coat.

"Leave your wet clothes at the top of the stairs, and I'll send the maid up for them." Wendy did as she was told, first she bathed in warm water and changed into her normal clothing. She returned to the attic and went straight to bed, rolling over on her stomach, placing her pillow over her head when she realized she left her favorite sketchpad in the park.

Wendy fell into a light slumber, and stayed in the attic undisturbed until the maid knocked that dinner was on the table. "I'm not hungry, but thank you…" she mumbled with her head still under the pillow.

Wide awake now, she still lay on the bed in that position, listening to her father shout at her mother, not in a nasty tone, but his normal sound, for his hearing was now going too, and felt that every one he spoke with faced the same ailment. Down in the dining room her parents engaged in their normal dinnertime talks about, well, whatever it was people who were married that long still talked about. Mary's soft tone could barely be heard if not talking to George, but as he yelled, "I READ IN THE PAPER THAT THIS IS THE WORST WINTER IN YEARS, MORE POTATOES PLEASE, MARY, THEY ARE DELICIOUS."

Wendy giggled knowing her mother would be forced to scream back, "I READ THAT AS WELL, WOULD YOU LIKE MORE GREEN BEANS AS WELL, GEORGE? I TRIED A NEW RECIPE."

After dinner came dessert, and for Wendy after dessert and more shouting came more sleep, which was interrupted when the front bell rang signaling the Darlings had a visitor. "IT'S PROBABLY JUST HARRY WANTING A FREE MEAL. TOO BAD, HE MISSED OUR LOVELY SUPPER YET AGAIN. I TOLD HIM, MARY, WE DINE AT EXACTLY SEVEN. DON'T KNOW WHY HE RANG THE BELL! HE KNOWS OUR DOOR IS ALWAYS OPEN TO HIM! FIX HIM A PLATE, WILL YOU PLEASE, MY LOVE?" George shouted to Mary who was already answering the door.

The steps creaked as a person ascended them, and Wendy listened as her father shouted, "THE WASHROOM IS AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, YOU CAN USE MY WIFE'S FANCY SOAP IN THE BASKET ON THE SINK IF YOU LIKE. WENDY'S ROOM IS THE DOOR ACROSS FROM THE WASHROOM. JUST BANG ON IT TILL SHE OPENS UP. THAT LAZY GIRL HAS BEEN NAPPING ALL DAY, FATHER."

The last bit hit her a little late, and she bolted up from bed and to her door just in time to save him the trouble of knocking on it. "Hello, Wendy, I hope I'm not bothering you." James spoke with her sketchpad in his hand.

"Come in." She opened the door and stepped aside, giving him access to the stairs leading to her bedroom.

James entered and looked around, seeing her only remaining portrait of Captain Hook framed in an exquisite frame of gilded wood that hung above her bed. "All the winters that have been," he repeated the inscription to himself, engraved on a tiny golden plaque attached at the bottom barely visible from where he was standing. Pointing to her most precious masterpiece, he spoke a little surprised, "He was real, I mean, he was truly a real man, not just your imagination?"

Wendy was also a bit stunned by his question, "How ever could I make all that up? I love him, he was real, and me loving him made him so. I don't care what anyone says about me, I loved him and I still do. I can't believe you would think for one moment I made it all up. It wasn't a story, word for word it was the truth!"

James turned to face her with a lost expression, "Story?"

Wendy walked up to him and looked deep into his eyes, "The things I confessed to you about Captain Hook. All of it, all of it was true."

James backed up, as did Wendy when she saw his retreat, "I don't keep in mind what was said in the confessional, Wendy, I just…" He stopped himself, and stepped to her. "You left this in the park," he handed her the sketchpad gingerly and after a moment of holding on end as she held the other he whispered, "and this." He inelegantly leaned into to her blinking his eyes faster than he needed to make sure his aim was correct, placing his lips gently to hers.

"You thought you were just in my imagination, you never knew I thought of you as real," she said when their short but sweet kiss was complete.

Father Dunange did not hear her, he was too busy taking her head in his hands and pulling her in for a more passionate and lingering exchange. He kissed her face and down her neck, which she offered willing, "Oh how I prayed for this moment," Wendy whispered as he ran his lips up her throat to her mouth, where they again met.

On instinct, Wendy began to unbutton his shirt and he followed suit by opening her blouse. He used his hand, guiding down over her breasts, still hidden behind her undergarment. She reciprocated the touch, gently touching his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the hair found there. The interlude came to a sudden halt when Wendy attempted to unfasten his belt; James shoved her away forcefully, lowering his head to regain his composure in their heated moment.

"I'm sorry, James, I'm so sorry. I just need to feel you again," Wendy offered as he hastily re-buttoned his shirt and fixed his appearance.

"Again? Wendy I have never been this way with you before, you must confused with someone else." He continued his assault to her heart by demanding, "Wendy, please cover yourself, it is improper for you to leave your blouse open to my eyes like that. I'm a priest, not one of your many lovers."

But Wendy had gone too far to let him go now; she moved back to him and pecked his mouth, he doing his best to resist her temptation, "I thought you said you don't keep in mind what I said in the confessional. You are my only lover, what we did together was blessed in God's eyes."

Again he defended himself, grabbing her harshly by the shoulders and thrusting her away, "We never did anything, Wendy," he growled, then taking to stairs before she could get up. He had hit the door leading to the hallway and stopped, hearing her voice echoing down to him as she stood at the top landing.

"If you ever loved me, Captain Hook, do not run away now. I have lived the same as you once did through all the winters that have been. I promised you I would return, and I did. I am sorry I was late, but you told me once, better late then never."


	64. Chapter 64 I Do Believe, I Do, I Do

My Darling Love

Chapter 64 – I Do Believe, I Do, I Do

"_To accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream._

_Not only plan, but also believe."_

_-Anatole France_

Father James put his hand on the knob and turned it, not looking back to Wendy, still standing and waiting. "Wendy, you are truly confused … I am not this man of which you speak."

"If you leave me now, it is by your own hand, and not by God's, for He has made you real and given to you free will. You are not the angel in Neverland anymore; you are a man on earth with a choice of love and happiness standing behind you and another choice of all the seasons of solitude yet to come -- for the both of us -- in front of you."

James clicked the knob, and opened the door taking one step into the hall, still not looking back. "Please, Wendy, I don't ever want to think of you as insane. I want to believe the feelings we have for one another are true and not clouded in your delusions. I love you, Wendy, and I want to believe you love me as well. There is no Captain Hook and there is no such thing as Neverland. There is only you and I. Do you love me as I love you?"

"Yes, I love you … of course I do, I have always loved you and only you. Please, James, tell me you are truly he. Confess it to me now, I won't ever tell another soul. Tell me you are Captain Hook. I beg of you! Please God, make him speak the truth!"

God was off watching another drama unfold elsewhere in the world, but shifted on His throne to catch Wendy's words, hearing His name spoken out loud by her. Apprised of the situation by Captain Hook, who recounted word for word of what had transpired between the fair maiden and the wayward priest in their exchange, he ended with a polite question of, "May I go to her now?"

God was swift with his answer, _"_**_No."_ **

Captain Hook, who was now pacing in front of the Lord's throne, back and forth, with his hand and hook on his hips, shook his lowered head angrily.

"WHY NOT?" Captain Hook blasted back; stopping his pacing to stand directly in front of the throne with his head raised high to the clouds that shadowed God in the heavens above.

_"**Who are you to question me?!"**_ God in heaven thundered. There was a supreme silence that stilled heaven, but only for moment.

_"**Always a rebellious one you are, James, never do you follow the rules. Lest you forget, you no longer hold within yourself the part that makes you real on Earth. You sacrificed it, and yourself …"**_

"For Gwendolyn Angelina Darling, dearest Lord!" Captain Hook interrupted in a less rebellious tone. "I gave up my life and my light for her. I did this to save her, so that she may live on in happiness. But it is as clear as day now, she will never go on in my absence. And you know as well as I that there is to be no contentment for her if she is eternally lost in the dreams and desires of the love she once felt."

_"**Then she is lost in her own imagination. She chooses of her own free will to see another in your likeness. Too similar are the hearts of Father James and the pirate captain for her to notice the difference. But it is there, she only chooses not to see it."**_

"Ahhh … so she is as her mother once was before her. Pity you did not make two George Darlings then…" Captain Hook replied, arrogantly irate. "You always ask of me, my own wants and always I tell you the same… 'I shall go where you place me Lord.' But now that I truly desire something for myself, you say I am rebellious."

_"**You are an angel, James, the perfection and tranquility you deserve are only to be found in heaven. You have yourself bore witness to the wickedness and iniquities found on Earth. Why would you want to exist in the world that breeds war and hatred amongst men? Why would you want to exist in the world that is polluted with foul deceptions, lies, envy, greed, evil…There is no peace there…It is easier to hate than love in that world…The good suffer while the bad bask in the glories of their wrong doing…"**_

"Why did you create such a world?" Captain Hook was swifter than God Himself with his rejoinder.

_"**Again you question me? I have my reasons, none of which concern you. You have been parted from that world, and can no longer exist there, and that, at least there, is where your story ends. Fairest Gwendolyn and her plight is also none of your concern as her choice now has nothing to do with you."**_

"Well, on that point I beg to differ with you. Is it not my heart that has blinded her and left her defenseless in the world? Am I not the one she erroneously addresses at this very moment. But seeing as you are all knowing, light of light, True God of True God, I will leave you to this then. And all I ask is that you remember your promise to me," Captain Hook responded, utterly defeated he began to walk slowly away back into the heavens.

_"**My promise, James, was fair trade for Queen Mary."**_

Captain Hook stopped and stood, his head despondently lowered. Without looking back to where the Lord sat waiting and watching, he replied, "And now that I can no longer exist in that world, I ask for fair trade, dearest Lord, in heaven for all that I have lost on Earth …I am brave enough to believe…"

Back on Earth, Father James still stood at the bottom of the attic stairs as Wendy spoke one last time before she readied herself to abandon him forever, "God wanted you to remember Neverland, if He hadn't, you would be perfection in the flesh. I know what ails your arm and hand. Your hand is a reminder to you of the sacrifices you made to save others. Your arm is deformed from elbow up to your shoulder blade, because that was the punishment for loving my mother when Pan brought her to Neverland when she herself was a young woman on the verge of growing up. God took from you your wings so you could not escape your assignment there."

God held his stare to Captain Hook, but moved his all seeing eyes to Wendy Darling and sighed, **_"Well, at least she is correct on that one account. On Earth, you would have been perfection in the flesh … Did you tell her that James?"_**

Captain Hook still did not give God his undivided attention, only mumbling, "No, I did not." He turned about on his heel and in an instant was standing back in front of God's massive throne in Heaven. Looking up reverently, he offered, "That is just another one of the hopes that she has created to heal her broken and bleeding heart … May I ask where is the mercy she is deserving of? I beseech You, You who is almighty in power, You who is omnipotent. Protect and secure her delicate heart in which I sacrificed mine so magnanimously to save …"

_"**Her choice stands before her now. I cannot intercede, not even for the happy ending promised to you. We must remember the rules of fair play."**_

"Then there is to be no happy ending for her parents either, thus Lucifer has already won…" With that said, again, Captain Hook hung his head.

_"**Conceding defeat was never your strong suit, James, you disappoint me."**_

Captain Hook raised his head once more and valiantly proclaimed, "I do not concede defeat on my own behalf, for there would be no defeat if I were there."

_"**And what of the rules, James?"**_

"You need no rule of three to take action on this very important matter, for I believe another rule states, turnabout is fair play. I also believe there is a Joseph Baker in this story that was taken before his time, unfairly, by your foe. Therefore, if that is in fact the case, there is time that is owed on Earth. Maybe, just maybe, you could borrow the time on his term and lend it to me?" Captain James Hook stood, his face bowed, speaking before the Lord on his throne. He slowly raised his eyes up to God with the most innocent face he could muster said, "Did not a saint once say, _I have been all things unholy. If God can work through me, he can work through anyone._ Let it be through him who shares the likeness of my heart."

God thought on it a moment, **_"Borrowed time…"_** and Captain Hook grinned happily, nodding his head. God leaned over and gazed down from the heavens to Earth, directly into the Darling home's attic. "I know what you are waiting for, Dearest Lord, and it will come…" Captain Hook reassured, watching as well.

In the attic, Wendy Darling stood staring at Father James who still remained at the bottom of the stairs with his eyes forward. "Nothing to say for yourself Captain Hook?" she shouted heatedly to him. Father James could not speak for the pirate captain who had served his lengthy and merciless penance in Neverland, but he could speak for himself, and so he did. "I would have left the priesthood for you … I love you that much Wendy … more than myself …."

_"**Go to her now James. Begin with a correction to your Gwendolyn …"**_

"As you wish …" James Hook knelt before God before dissipating. Another arrived in his place before the throne, and God cast down His all-seeing eyes to the young man, offering a bewildered smile, **_"Have faith, dearest heart, 'tis only for a short time…"_**

Wendy turned on her heel, and Captain James Hook now stood in the doorway, staring straight ahead, unblinking. All at once he spoke in a strict and unyielding tone, quite familiar to the once-fair maiden, "You are wrong on that account of the true tale, Gwendolyn, my shoulder blade and arm is the result of the broken wing I received trying to escape from heaven, not hell. I fell from the sky begging forgiveness for my weakness and envy of man and this most unusual and annoying power called love. Peter Pan was an angel too, once, who lied to me and told me he could lead me someplace where I could leave my duties defending heaven and enjoy all the pleasures of man. He asked no one for absolution as he fell, for he was heartless -- in every sense of the word -- and where he landed, well, let's just say I can understand why he's always hated me so. But God had mercy on me, for He had already entrusted me with a heart, and I landed on a ship, to serve my penance in purgatory -- Neverland, as a child might call it. My wings were taken from me, though much, much later, and not by God, but by St. Michael, the archangel. And you are correct on that assumption, it was retribution for loving your mother after He warned me Himself it was forbidden."

"It's no assumption, she told me herself," Wendy responded, turning back into her bedroom.

James stood, his eyes ahead, the face of a pirate captain now returned, frightening and hostile, shadowed over that of a harmless priest. He turned around and ascended the stairs, two at a time, to find Wendy sitting on her bed, gazing at his portrait. "He told you to go on, Gwendolyn, marry another have a family live the life you deserve, the life he was willing to give to you," he jeered, hands on hips, shaking his head.

"He? Who is he?" Wendy replied. She remained calm, with her hands folded on her lap, staring up to him. "You think I'm angry with you over my mother, or jealous of what you had with her. That's not true, you see my mother loves my father, and not to sound spiteful, but I know the only part of you she loved was the part of him she saw in you, which she felt belonged to her, even before she knew him. She told me she never loved you when she was in Neverland as a young woman, she only wanted to be saved from having to marry a man she didn't love. And my father did that, not you."

James stood tall, glaring down at her. "She did love me when she was in Neverland as a young girl, and if she claims anything else, she is a liar. I know what happened there, not you! And what of other times we shared company in Neverland, when you were off with Pan? Did she love me then, or did she love your father, who beat her and cheated on her, from whom she beseeched me to protect her? You know, Gwendolyn; I had your mother, I felt her body against mine. I loved her then."

"You loved her then, 'then' being the important word. You loved her because I was not there, had I been there, you would have never felt that emotion. And if you tell me otherwise, I will call you a liar. If I were there…"

He swiftly interrupted with, "Which you were not, because you were off with the devil," prompting her to begin again.

"If I were there with you, we would have defended her together. She always loved my father, James; she never stopped loving him, not even for a moment. You were the peace in her mind she needed to get past what he did to her. You were the missing part of puzzle for him to see he was wrong. You were the truth within both mother and father, telling her he would never hit or hurt her again, which he never has. You were the truth, telling him that she still loved him, in spite of his actions against her, and this truth was enough reason not to. And you were the sword God needed to end the evils that haunted them throughout their lives. You were their guardian angel, flawlessness and precision guided by God's hand. You told me my father's fate, James, it overcame him, he conquered, and it's over. That man sitting downstairs is not the same man that cheated on my mother and beat her, for that man is dead. That is my father downstairs, and with him, by his side, always and forever, is my mother."

Wendy rose up on the bed and moved to the headboard, reaching upward to take the painting of Captain Hook down off the wall. "I love you, James. I loved you when you were an angel dressed as a pirate captain, and I love you now that you are a man. I love the part of you that is mine, which means I love every part of you. Here take this; I need no more reminders of you, not like this. The way you are now, still suffering for sins that God has already forgiven will last me my lifetime. You must make your peace with Him, not me, before you can move on. Really James … now you do your penance as a priest…"

She placed it in his hand and he threw it down, breaking the frame as it fell. "I have made my peace with God. I am here, am I not? That alone proves I am once again in His good graces. And now that I have returned, I ask you to give poor Father James the respect he is deserving of for his sacrifices. It is a vocation to be a priest, Gwendolyn, a sacred calling by God to be in His service. Who are you to call it suffering?"

"It is also a sacred vocation -- a calling as you say -- to be a husband and father. And I think it actually more revered in God's eyes. Being a priest, you can hide away behind the altar or in the confessional, hearing the sorrows and joys of other lives, never having to worry that the suffering that affects those others will befall you, for you only have yourself to be responsible for. God helps those who trust Him to help them, a priest brings those who seek God to Him, and God Himself leads them from there. Is that not what priests tell those who ask for help? 'Pray to God, He will light the way'."

Wendy stood straight, slim and tall, unafraid of this confrontation. Truthfully, since she realized he would rather be a priest than with her after God forgave his sins, she was waiting for this fight. Waiting to prove her love for him alone was all he would ever need. "But to be husband and father, you are responsible not only for yourself, but for your family -- a group of people joined by love who rely on their father for that light to see the paths of their own lives more clearly. God leads them as best He can from afar, but you have to do the rest. You cannot imagine what my father has seen in his lifetime. He has seen my mother from a time where her beauty was renowned and has watched that beauty fade away like dust in the wind. He held his own son a moment after he was born, and watched that very same son lowered into ground after he died. He has worked endless hours at his profession … You know what he's done, James, you were there, onboard the ship that day Pan was defeated. You heard him recount his life and his sacrifices for his children. That is why priests are called 'Father,' to honor those whose serve God away from heaven here on earth. They are the watching angels on earth."

Wendy's tone was not angry, just agitated. She had always known he was strong enough to believe, and now he had faltered, and that weakness in him consumed her. Captain Hook stood rigidly before her, the same stance he had in heaven. His hands, one real and one a false replacement for that which was lost, on his hips, shaking his head angrily. "You still don't see it, do you? It is impossible for you to be this blind, Gwendolyn!"

"Why are you afraid, James?" she asked, still standing before him. "Did you think after all this time I would not be waiting?"

"I knew you would be waiting, Gwendolyn, but I must tell you, dearest, you are going about this the wrong way." Captain Hook looked up to her. The desire in her eyes was overwhelming to him. The heart in his chest pounded quicker, harder, than he had ever felt it. _"To be real…"_ his mind spoke silently to him, _"as you have always wanted…"_ Father James' heart added for good measure, hoping to sway him into her illusion. Wendy's tears, tears that poured down her beautiful cheeks only added to a weight that tugged at the heart within his chest. "Please, James, I love you…" Wendy cried, now covering her face, weeping inconsolably.

It was at that moment, more than Captain Hook could bear. His mind and the heart he held within him, goaded him on with, _"Go to her now, help her live your happy ending…"_

James knelt down and embraced her around the waist, choking through his own tears. "After all this, your father could never give me the blessing of your hand. I know he wouldn't. He knows too much of my past, I was with your mother and I did love her, I wanted to take her from him, your father knows that."

James lifted his head to Wendy who replied, "But you didn't, you kept your word to him, and you don't love my mother the same way he does, he knows that too. He knows you love me, and have always loved me. He trusted you, James, with his entire life, and you helped him, you gave him courage. And, James, although I remember everything, my parents don't."

"They may not remember Neverland and all that happened there, but they are aware that Father James is a priest, and will be excommunicated from the church, for those he serves are already suspicious of his interests in you. Not to mention you are already an older woman of questionable reputation. And add the fact that he must leave the faith dishonorably for you both to be together is bad enough. It would shame your parents for the rest of their lives. I do not speak of your parents thinking ill of you or Father James, I think of all the others that will think ill of your parents. You must be patient and wait. Let me think of a resolution for you and --"

"No, James, we will not wait." Wendy grabbed him by the arms and drew him up. "We have waited long enough."

"Gwendolyn, you are confused of my identity … I am not who …" was all poor James Hook could manage, for Wendy held her hand to his mouth to quiet him. "Right here, right now, you are my James and whether that be Captain Hook or Father Dunange, I will not wait another moment for us to be together."

Without letting him speak a rebuttal, Wendy led James by the hand into the parlor where George and Mary sat, each side by side, in armchairs. George, who had just learned, at his ripe old age, to master the art knitting, was crocheting what appeared to be a baby's sweater. Mary was doing the same, her correctly sized and shaped baby's leggings gave the hint to her husband's creation only from the matching hues of yarn. Mary noticed them enter and looked up, seeing Wendy nudge James forward, taking her place beside him. James inhaled deeply, exhaling nervously, waiting for George to also give him undivided attention.

"George," Mary spoke, poking his arm, causing him to look up at the two adults standing before him. "I think they want to tell us something," Mary said, putting down their work on the side table and returning to her seat to hear them clearly.

"WHAT?" George shouted as Mary shook her head and urged Wendy to begin, "Alright Wendy, what is it?"

Wendy pinched James and he stepped up with a confused expression, expecting to find his center and his valor in Mary's tranquil eyes. But oddly enough, he found nothing. He stuttered and stammered, trying to vocalize something, only finding himself completely and undoubtedly lost, not only in the room, but in the world as well. His mind rambled thoughts just as quickly as Father James' heart beat, both offering him assorted encouragements that blurred into nothingness. It was obvious, at least to God, poor James Hook was clearly out of sorts in his new surroundings and so He offered His own substantiation, **_"You said you were brave enough to believe, James. Well, believe James…"_**

And so, Captain James Hook did.

"I wish to marry your daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Darling, we would like your blessing."

Mary stared blankly at him and then looked at Wendy, who smiled with a childlike face of uneasiness, waving her hand to her mother as if to say "hello." Mary turned to George who was watching without seeing and listening without hearing, "WHAT DID HE SAY MARY? WENDY DOESN'T WANT TO BECOME A NUN, DOES SHE?"

"No, George, quite the contrary this man wishes to marry her, and I'll assume by her silly expression that Wendy has accepted his proposal." Mary held her head slightly tilted between those before her and her husband while she gave George an explanation too quietly for him to hear.

"QUIET COUNTRY? DID YOU SAY HE'S MERRY, MARY? SILK SAMEDAY, WENDY? ARE YOU SPEAKING OF HER UNDERGARMENTS? WHAT SORT OF NONSENSE IS THIS?"

Mary gazed heavenward, as though asking for strength, and shook her head, not answering George, only turning her attention to James as she leaned her head forward and offered, "Are you not a priest?"

He simply answered, "Yes, Mrs. Darling, I am."

Mary closed her eyes and shook her head again, opening her eyes enough to reply, "And in that matter your intentions are?"

James stood up straight and took Wendy's hand in his, "I will leave the church to marry her. I love her. I have loved her since the moment I met her. I want to spend my life with her. We are in love and want to get married and raise a family together and that is not wrong. And I don't care what anyone says about it." He ended his declaration by kissing Wendy's hand, gazing upon her face, which held all the comfort he needed.

"MARY WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? I CAN'T UNDERSTAND A WORD THE MAN JUST SAID!" George's question and comment brought James and Wendy back to the reality of the real world.

Mary titled her head, the way she did when she gave her husband the first explanation of their meeting, only this time she shouted, "FATHER JAMES DUNANGE, THE NEW PRIEST FROM CHURCH WISHES TO MARRY WENDY. HE WANTS TO LEAVE THE CHURCH FOR HER. THEY WANT OUR BLESSING."

George pulled his head back with an expression best described as if Mary had just told him James confessed to being Father Christmas and offered proof of his revelation. "THEY WANT TO MARRY AND HE WANTS OUR BLESSING?" George repeated.

Wendy interrupted, "I know that some people will not understand, and I know the shame it will bring to our family, I wish you not to suffer it, but I'm begging you to… please I love him … and he loves me … that's not wrong …"

Wendy could see her parents and she knew what they were thinking, James saw the same and he touched Wendy's shoulder to stop her pleading for permission for something they would obviously never give their blessing to. A defeated Wendy fell into James' arms and began to cry, he moved his head to hers and wept as well, both shedding silent tears for all that could have been. "I sorry, Wendy, I cannot marry you without their blessing, for that is wrong."

Mary watched them with a quizzical expression, George insistently tapping on her arm. "ARE THEY STILL HERE MARY?"

Mary put George's hand to her check and nodded her head, to let him know they still were. "THEN WHY IS IT SO QUIET IN HERE?"

Mary moved his hand over just a little so that her husband could feel the tear that rolled down her cheek. George pulled Mary closer to him, and in a whisper as best he could he spoke, "Oh my darling love, he did pledge his life to be in service to the Lord. Now I understand we all make mistakes in our choices, but do you think God would be angry if Father James preferred the calling of husband to that of priest? What I am truly asking is, do you think God would give his blessing to our Wendy and James?" With his hand still on her face she gave her answer. "Are they still here?" he repeated softly. She nodded.

Wendy had come so far, it had taken her so long to get to where she was, and James had endured it with her, even from afar. In a way, she felt as though she should be more valiant and not let their love be so easily defeated. As George and Mary engaged in their private conversation, Wendy suggested, "We could run away, not back to Neverland but someplace else to be together."

James only shook his head, "We must have their permission, and there is nowhere left in the world to run away to, dearest Gwendolyn. I am real, here and now…" James said into her ear, cradling her in his arms. "There are still rules that I must abide by Gwendolyn… and this is one of them…"

To hear her mother's voice speak up only crushed Wendy further and drove her deeper into the darkness. "Let us try this again, now that the shock has worn off. If we are going to give our final decision that you, our daughter Wendy, and you, Father Dunange, will hear and accept, it must be done properly so there are no questions of neither your intentions, Wendy and James, or ours, your father and I, Mr. and Mrs. George Darling."

Wendy and James broke their hug and wiped their eyes, moving to face Wendy's parents side by side. They clutched the other's hands and waited for Mary who was waiting for them. "Go ahead, James, ask Mr. Darling and I again."

"Mr. and Mrs. Darling, I would like ask for your daughter's hand in marriage and we together would like to ask you both for your blessing."

Mary turned to George who was sitting looking out at where the muffled noise he was hearing came from. She tapped him to gain his attention to her and then she shouted, "JAMES HAS ASKED TO MARRY WENDY, THEY WANT OUR BLESSING."

"WHO? SOMEONE ELSE IS HERE TO ASK HER TO GET MARRIED? I WAS UNAWARE OUR DAUGHTER HAD SO MANY ADMIRERS. WHAT ABOUT THE PRIEST?" George yelled back.

"NO, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE GEORGE. FATHER JAMES DUNANGE IS ASKING TO MARRY HER," Mary responded, still watching her husband.

"AGAIN? DID HE NOT JUST ASK?" George replied, shifting in his seat, seeming rather annoyed at the goings on in his parlor. The darkness Wendy felt flood over her increased tenfold, but only for a moment when George shouted. "HOW MANY TIMES WILL SHE MAKE HIM ASK HER BEFORE SHE SAYS YES? WENDY, AT YOUR AGE, YOU SHOULD NOT BE PLAYING HARD TO GET."

Wendy and James quickly turned to each other, their expressions overjoyed, waiting in anticipation of the answer, knowing it was so close, but at the same time possibly years away. Their excitement only increased, when Mary, unable to hide her happiness let a smile escape, and then a giggle, as she shouted, "SHE SAID YES ALREADY, THEY WANT OUR BLESSING. OUR BLESSING, GEORGE."

"THEY WANT OUR BLESSING?" Mary placed George's hand on her cheek; Wendy ran to her father and knelt before him, placing his other hand on her face as well. Mother and daughter nodded their heads in unison and George answered, "WELL THEN, GIVE THEM OUR BLESSING, MARY, AND THEN OPEN A BOTTLE OF OUR FINEST TO TOAST THEM WITH."

All present, including the maids, housekeeper and cook, attracted by all the shouting, hugged and kissed and danced around the parlor, with Mary playing the piano when Uncle Harry dropped by.

"Wendy and James are to be married!" Mary shouted as she opened the door.

"Father Dunange, you mean? Is he not a priest? What will the neighbors think?" Harry asked with a disturbed expression.

"He loves my daughter, and she loves him and that is all that matters. He shall leave the church and marry my daughter, and give me grandchildren that I can cherish here in my home and not from afar," Mary commanded, kissing his cheek and shuffling him in the parlor to take up a glass, "And frankly, Harold, I don't give a damn what the neighbors think!"

"To Wendy and James, may you live a long, happy and uninterrupted life together, and may God grant you babies of your own with whom to share all your love and devotion." George, Mary, Wendy, James, Uncle Harry and the house staff raised their glasses, with Wendy adding before they toasted, "May we be as happy as my parents have been all these years together, and give the same fine examples of what it is to truly love selflessly."


	65. Chapter 65 Pride and Joy

My Darling Love

Chapter 65 – Pride and Joy

"_A little girl at the wedding afterwards asked her mother why the bride changed her mind. She went down the aisle with one man, and came back with another."_

_-Source Unknown_

George was too deaf to discuss matters privately, so Mary sought the advice of Harry, with whom she had lunch weekly, "First, Mary, you must find him a viable profession, one in which he can provide, by his own efforts, a home for Wendy and any children they have, although I doubt at her age it is a necessary worry after babies and such nonsense." He finished his opinion over dessert with, "I would advise that, once he is employed, you delay the wedding until he has served at least one year's time at his place of business, money is scarce these days, many who are new in the workplace soon find themselves out of jobs."

Harry scratched his forehead, wondering if he should voice his true opinions. Seeing his sister-in-law's intrigued look of anticipation, he finally put it to words. "James may change his mind, Mary, and go back to the church. Wendy needs to understand the depth of his sacrifice, and give him time to truly make up his mind. You and George should insist they delay the wedding and not let them rush into anything."

The wedding was scheduled for that summer. Mary would not delay it for two reasons, first being the most important to her; George's health had begun to fail further. He would not admit it, but he had aches and pains inside of him he kept secret. It seemed that monthly, he caught a cold that would leave him bedridden for days. Many a morning when he was feeling well, Mary had awoken to find him dressed and already out of bed, the maid done with the first load of laundry before breakfast, when normally laundry was put off till late afternoon.

"He had another accident, Mrs. Darling," she would explain quietly, "on his way to the bathroom." His hearing and sight were problematic, and now his sense of smell and taste fled him. This he kept to himself also, Mary only making the discovery one night in the middle of winter when he asked, "What's for dinner, Mary?" as he sat down.

It was roast chicken, not the pot roast she had herself been erroneous misinformed of by their cook. She told him, "Pot roast, dearest," as the platter was carried in and corrected, "Oh no George, supper tonight is roast chicken."

He didn't hear that part because he remarked after finishing his plate, "This is the best pot roast the cook's made yet."

But George still has wits about him, and had gotten so skillful at playing chess with his wife that he won his first match against her in their entire marriage in only four moves.

The second reason was more for Wendy, who was already swelling in the middle as her June wedding date slowly approached. The night of her parent's blessing, James and Wendy made love in the attic.

"Shhh … Your parents will hear," he whispered as she moaned her delight.

"I don't care if they hear, I want the God in heaven to hear!" God heard and dispatched an early wedding present down to her that eagerly flew on tiny wings landing in its new home, Wendy's belly. There it would rest for at least the next nine months before relocating to a more comfortable spot, her new parent's awaiting arms.

Wendy was to be thirty-eight in April, and as far as she was concerned, the absence of her monthlies the next month meant nothing except that her change of life had begun. And just like her mother, who needed some sort of proof (aside from the rabbit that died in the doctor's office), Wendy waited until she felt the first movements of the life inside of her. That proof came the day of her wedding.

George still had friends and favors owed at the bank, not to mention Harry who came across all sorts of tradesmen at his pub and together they got James several job offers. Seems everyone had a son or a friend that needed an apprentice of some sort that was more than happy to offer them up to Mr. Darling's future son-in-law. James had his pick of being a banker, a plumber, a baker, a house painter, a bricklayer, a barber, a carpenter and numerous other workable professions.

James chose carpenter, reasoning, "The son of God was a carpenter," and worked seven days a week to learn his trade. It came to him quickly as he excelled above and beyond what others might have expected of a priest, stripped of his collar with only one workable hand. Although, Mary and George would not let him stay in their home, "Wendy, there are certain formalities in polite society that not even your father and I will bend. Living in the same home with a man you are not married to is one of them."

James could not stay at the church mission, for the church threw him out on his ear when he informed them of his broken vows, and his resignation from his position. Uncle Harry, without a second thought, allowed James his spare room to sleep in. James worked sunrise to sunset, and in only a few weeks, he had enough saved for a modest flat.

It was good he chose the profession of carpenter, for he became proficient in other areas, and in his free time, willingly did repairs to the Darling home for which George paid him generously. "I only hung a few pictures and fixed the backdoor. You need not pay me a week's wages for something I want to do for free," he would tell Mary as she handed him the cash folded after dinner.

"George insisted, take it, save it, keep it for a rainy day. Trust me, James, there will be many once you are married."

James did not have enough money to buy Wendy an engagement ring, so Mary gave Wendy hers. "I never knew father gave you one," Wendy told her mother as she fitted her for her wedding dress. "That is why your father and I want to entrust it to you, it was your grandmother Josephine's ring, and her mother's before her. Wear it in good health."

When James was not working to make a way for Wendy and him in the world, George was tutoring him on finances. Every Sunday, he would come by, and as was his regular hours of enslavement, George would keep him at his desk, mentoring James in the art of balancing the house books and investing his hard earned money wisely. James never minded, for George was a very good teacher, even though he was hard of hearing and almost completely blind.

"Alright, son," George would begin in a loud tone, "Now read to me what you have completed thus far." James would read from his ledger, while George kept his eyes raised to the ceiling repeating the numbers and doing the arithmetic in his head. "Very good, son, now you forgot to carry the one again, so therefore you have more money than what you totaled."

Mary would sit nearby and prompt her husband and future son-in-law to eat and take rest. "You both have been working on that all afternoon, I think it's time to stop for awhile. Your shouting of numbers and expenses is giving me a headache," Mary would offer at James bewildered face, while George admonished over savings and "safe money," as he called it.

"Women never think of money, James, that is why we have to," George would tell him, but then concede, as his lovely wife would tap him on the shoulder and peck his cheek but not before reminding, "If you run into any trouble, my brother Harry will help you, James. Never be ashamed to ask for help."

The gossipmongers of London had the rumor mills churning stories of how the scandalous daughter of the Darlings, who had whored her younger years away, had tempted an innocent priest from the Church and led him into sinful ways. The untruths and torrid tales grew just as quickly as Wendy's belly did and everyone not concerned was sure a marriage in the church would not be permitted. But it seems Wendy's father, even as an old man, was still alive, and therefore still able to save the day. With the threat that Mr. and Mrs. Darling, one of (if not the most) generous contributors to the parish would leave that parish and go elsewhere if their daughter and her fiancé were not allowed to marry there, the monsignor and bishop had no other choice but to also give their blessing to Wendy and James. The offer of a gracious donation for four new of the most glorious stained glass windows for the church did not hurt either. Before the wedding took place, the windows had been selected and installed, marked on the inscription, _"Donated by the good will and kind hearts of Mr. and Mrs. George Darling and family."_

And so Wendy stood at the back of the church. She wore a dress of silk and satin, white as freshly fallen snow, the first of winter. There was no train to run down the length and fan out feet behind her, nor a veil for that matter. There was no beadwork or pearls to encircle the neck and bodice, for her mother did not have enough time to craft it so. It was of empire style, cut closely around her chest, opening out below her breast and hemmed at her ankles. Instead of a crown of jewels, she wore a ring of fresh cut flowers in her long flowing hair. She had dreamt all of her life of wearing her mother's dress, but it was ruined by time. Since there had never been a more beautiful dress to be married in than Mary's, Wendy would have to make do with the one her mother made in its place.

Wendy carried roses in a variety of different shades of pink in full bloom, just like her mother. Her bridesmaids (there were two) wore dresses in a hue of their choice, in the style they liked. Therefore, the housekeeper of the Darling house, Wendy's good friend, preferred mint green and John's wife liked lemon yellow best. They lined the front altar, standing as a family, just as happy as Wendy was, awaiting her arrival.

James had groomsmen; two also, Harry acting as best man, and John. They bore the same overjoyed expressions, smiling to Wendy who was waiting. To her right, was her father, who, on this most special of days was more proud than he had been in his entire life. For Wendy was by far the loveliest bride he had ever seen, next to Mary, her mother, his wife. Mary smiled ear-to-ear, turning in her seat and then standing before everyone else present, so as to not miss a moment of her daughter and husband walking arm and arm down the aisle as the wedding march began.

It should be the have been the happiest day, and it was, for there was not one reason in anyone's heart for it not to be. Mary nodded to George to step forward down the aisle but his eyes were fixed in a stare directed towards the groom. Wendy nudged her father onward, as he could not see Mary urging him on from where she sat. "Is it time Wendy?" he asked, and she placed his hand on her cheek, nodding. "Forgive me, Wendy, for I do not wish to ruin this day for you but …"

Wendy held her father's hand to her face, worried he would break her heart by dragging her away from James who was waiting, troubled by her delay. A tear ran down her cheek, and George leaned closer to her ear, "Don't cry, Wendy, it is to be a happy day. I don't mean to upset you, I should have let your uncle walk you down for I cannot..."

Wendy hugged her father, whimpering, "You don't approve of James, Father, I thought you did?"

George pulled her to face him and for the first time in a very long time she looked into his eyes and realized that, although she stood directly in front of him, he still moved his face around looking for her. "I do approve of him, dearest, I think of him as my son, it's just, I can't see anymore. My eyesight has failed me and now I fail you." His eyes welled with tears; "You will have to direct me down the aisle, for I have waited for this day just as long as you have. I'm sorry for being so selfish and robbing you of this moment."

The wedding march had ended and began again on the order of Mary. Wendy wiped her father's tears and then her own, "Hold my arm, Father, and I will lead wherever you want to go."

George smiled, clutching her hand as he wrapped it around her arm. "Please don't tell your mother I'm blind, Wendy, for that is another burden of mine I wish her not to bear. And I think to your intended husband waiting at the alter is best place for us to journey together at the moment, now lead away before they start without you."

Wendy directed her father down the aisle marching along slowly. She felt that, had he walked her with his own eyes, he would have strolled at that slower pace to linger on the pride he felt of the moment. Wendy was not selfish, nor was George, and neither was robbed of anything on that day.

As they arrived at the altar, at a time when every father turns to his daughter and expresses sentiments of love and pride, her father said aloud, "I held you a moment after you were born and I raised you with all that I had inside of me to give and plenty that I didn't. It was through you, your brothers and mother that I learned how to truly love someone other than myself, and found my strength and courage. I hope on this day, as I put you, my precious baby girl who stood here at this altar with me and your mother on our wedding day hidden in white, as I place you in the arms of another that you love, that you are just as proud of me as I am of you."

"Oh daddy…" Wendy cried and kissed his face nodding her head to him.

"Who gives this woman to this man?" the priest spoke interrupting them.

"HER MOTHER AND I DO," George called out to the packed house of family and friends that gathered to see the couple wed.

The priest instructed James and Wendy to face one another, but before she did, without being asked Wendy spoke, "I want to give my mother a rose from my bouquet before I am married." She took her father by the arm and led him to his wife, giving her a loving embrace and handing her the prettiest flower from her bouquet, Mary whispering, "Thank you, Wendy, for everything."

That day, before James had stepped out to the front of the church, alone he knelt in the confessional and prayed to God for His continued guidance here on earth. God was silent to man, even though He watched from a distance. With the free will He had entrusted man, He kept His hand from directly interfering with choices made, knowing at times they were wrong and no good would come of it. Where James Hook was concerned, especially while acting in the place of another, God could not help but open his mouth and speak up on this, a blessed day indeed.

"**_Remember, James, strength of heart is different when you are real, where you wish to be there on Earth, nothing is easy, and everything must be fought for on a different battlefield each day. And there is no peace there. Man does not care anything about the wars you have seen with evil, James, they are blinded in other sins you know everything of. But do not fear, for fear begets hate and hate begets war, and war begets fear, and thus, you will be find yourself trapped of your own free will in this never-ending circle. Love those who love you, James, and love those who don't. Forgive them when you are wronged and always remember, James, because you cannot hear Me, means not that I am deaf to your prayers. If you ever feel you cannot go on, for at times it will feel as though there is no way possible, remember that I placed you there because I know you that you are strong enough to never accept defeat. Remember to watch over your children in the night. Remember the scared duty I have entrusted you with, see that it is done in a timely manner. And James, remember -- time is not of the essence, there is no forever where you are concerned, at least not there on Earth. Soon, but not too soon, I will have no other choice but to call you home…."_**

Wendy and James were married in the eyes of God, and He smiled down on them, blessing their union with sunshine and a night of a cloudless sky full of stars.

There was only one guest, and uninvited at that, who was unhappy with hate in his heart. He hid in the balcony and watched the ceremony take place. Peter Pan was not without his own tears, and he shed them as James and Wendy were pronounced "man and wife in the eyes of God and Country."

George and Mary gave a grand reception for their only daughter, held at the best restaurant in London, full of fine foods and much wine and good cheer. The gathering made merry until it was time to send the couple off on their honeymoon. James carried Wendy dressed in her traveling suit out to an awaiting cab heading for the train station with everyone waving and chasing after them as they drove away. But unlike her parents, who spent their wedding night in a flat in the trashy section of London making love like newlyweds who were new to love in that way should, James and Wendy spent their wedding night fast asleep in a private compartment as the train railed down the tracks to the countryside.

John and his family took Mary and George home to their empty house. "MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE JAMES AND WENDY MOVE IN WITH US, WE HAVE PLENTY OF ROOM," George shouted to Mary as they lay in bed, readying for sleep.

Mary shook her head, sighing loudly at his decibel level. He didn't see her or hear her, but he did feel her rigid body when he snuggled next to her. "PLEASE, GEORGE, I'M TRYING TO GO TO SLEEP!" She yelled so he could hear and shoved away his hand. George rolled over without another word and shed tears as quietly as he could.

The sound of his weeping made Mary rise from the bed and walk around to George's side. "George," she spoke gently touching his cheek. He quickly got up affixing his glasses although was no need for them anymore, simply out of habit. He said nothing and just stared up trying to understand what his wife was doing out of bed beside him, "SHOULD I SLEEP ON THE SOFA MARY? I DIDN'T MEAN TO BOTHER YOU."

"I LOVE YOU, GEORGE!" Mary shouted to his confused expression, she almost sang it to him ending with a rather lingering passionate kiss.

George heard that and responded, "I LOVE YOU TOO, MARY."

Mary hugged him and kissed his face, repeating her words, "I LOVE YOU GEORGE, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU. PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T STOP SPEAKING TO ME, I DON'T CARE IF YOU SCREAM AT ME UNTIL I'M DEAF, JUST PLEASE DON'T STOP SPEAKING."

"GOOD, I THINK IT'S ONLY FAIR YOU BE AS DEAF AS I AM, MARY." George kissed Mary back and soon they kissing, hugging, touching more then they had in years.

George was nearly deaf and blind, but not without the desire to make love, and as he mustered all he could inside, and with a little prayer to God for mercy and relief, a part of George that lay unresponsive for so long, arose for Mary on that night. Just like newlyweds, who giggled and shifted about uncomfortably trying to see what suited them best, the George and Mary of many years married also chuckled and moved gingerly about one another.

The sounds of passions exchanged echoed throughout the empty house. When all was said and done, they rested breathless from all the laughing and lovemaking done in their bed. "I think, Mary, you should look for me in heaven. It will be better on a cloud," George panted as he got up for a glass of water to drink from his bedside table.

"No, George, it is best with you right here in our bed, and I think this is the place I want to die right here with you," Mary responded, as he returned to bed. "Promise me George that we will never be parted, not even in death … I don't want to live without you."

George rested his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes without answering. Mary was just about to raise her voice to the heavens at repeat her request at full voice when her husband touched her arm.

"I can't promise that we will never be parted by death, Mary. But I will promise that no matter what, whatever it is that happens to souls like ours when we die, I will be with you once again." He turned his head to see her through his own eyes, only to be denied on that one measure, but just the same, he finished with, "Promise me, Mary, that you will live on after I am gone. Promise me you will love. Promise me you will live to see our children's children's children. I think the title 'Great Grandmother Mary' will be very fitting on you."

He squeezed her hand and Mary smiled, "I promise George," and with that, the light was extinguished and Mr. and Mrs. George Darling finally slept.

Wendy and James spent a week in the countryside, sightseeing and honeymooning. It was truly a glorious time for the couple now made anew in the real world. Although Wendy attempted to engage him conversations about Neverland and Peter Pan, James always seemed to change the subject offering, "That part of your life, Wendy, was left in the confessional." After a few days of niggling on it, Wendy gave up and not another word was said.

That was, until the last night of their holiday as they packed their things, readying to return to normalcy as husband and wife. It started out innocently enough; they'd spent their day at the shore, returning to their room to dress for dinner. Supper was eaten at a lovely restaurant and, wanting to engage in a little intimacy once more before the sun set, they went back to their room. "Allow me to slip into something more comfortable," Wendy purred as she slipped into the bathroom to change. Mary had purchased for her daughter a grand negligee to wear on her wedding night, but since Wendy slept through it she saved the best for last. She dressed herself quickly and rushed back into the bedroom, interrupting her husband whose mind had seemingly already wandered to another.

James stood by the open windows of their room wearing the face of Captain James Hook. In his hand he held the drawing Wendy had made of her mother Mary, the same from the park. Apparently he had taken it from her sketchpad and kept it with him always, for that is what he explained when she caught him, red handed. "So, am I to understand that you are in love with my mother while I am expecting your child?" Wendy shouted slapping and punching his chest as she wept. "WHY DID YOU NOT JUST MARRY HER?"

"Gwendolyn, please, you must understand…" But there was nothing for Wendy to understand -- or accept, for that matter. Even on her honeymoon, her mother was competition. "So she is who you think of when we make love, she is who you thought about as we were wed! You wished it were she standing up by the altar! How could you marry me knowing the way you felt about her? How could you give me a baby, knowing it was my mother you wished to have children with? Why?"

Poor Wendy fell to the floor crying inconsolably, James fell with her, holding her to his chest, "Gwendolyn, I love you, and you must believe me. It's just, your mother and I…"

"My mother did not love you, she has never loved you! SHE LOVES MY FATHER!" Wendy screamed, and James nodded his head, acknowledging the truth of her declaration. "When will you let her go James? How long has this been going on? I was just part of your plan to get to her, wasn't I? All that we shared in Neverland, it was all to get to my mother? You are worse than my Uncle Peter…"

Now Captain Hook felt the same way about Peter Darling as everyone else that knew him did. He was the devil, some would even swear worse than the devil. So to call James worse than the devil himself, was an insult he could never stomach. As a matter of fact, just to be held in the same sentence as Satan ignited fury in James' heart. Therefore, where his arms should be a place of comfort for his wife, they became the battering ram he used to shove her away. He stood, gathered his coat and left the room without a word.

Wendy picked up the picture of her mother's face, drawn to perfection on a worn piece of sketch paper, and shredded it, throwing the torn pieces out the window and into the night sky. James left the front door to the hotel as Mary's mocking mouth blew past him in the wind. He caught what was left of Mary Elizabeth Darling and touched his fingers to her lips. **_"Queen Mary belongs to another, and another after that. You, James, are neither."_** James repeated the words of God told to him, as she left his ship when she was only sixteen returning to the real world to grow up.

James turned around and went back up to his room, stalking in as a pirate captain would to his beloved sitting on the bed engulfed in her broken hearted tears. "Gwendolyn, I love your mother. From the first moment I saw her. But I have accepted that she loves another before me, your father. They were destined to be together, just as you and I are. I am sorry you find it difficult that I loved her before you, but if I remember correctly it was not my heart you returned to Neverland to retrieve, it was another. Peter Pan."

"I do not carry reminders of Peter Pan with me, James!" Wendy retorted, rising, furious at his words.

"Oh really," Captain Hook -- sans pirate attire -- sneered, feigning surprise at her sentiment. "I think you carry him with you, Wendy, right here in your heart." He poked her forcefully in the chest; purposely calling her by a named he once said "keeps you a child in my eyes, immature and unready for real love."

"Peter Pan is not in my heart! That's absurd! How dare you!" Wendy gaped back, shocked by his arrogant appearance.

"He must be in your heart, Wendy," again sneering her name, gathering her up into the argument, "for he is certainly on your mind." James pranced around their room like a schoolgirl gossiping over a crush complete with an exaggerated smile and a gleeful tone while repeating Wendy's words, "I wonder where Peter is? Do you think he is still alive somewhere? Have you seen him? Did he return to Neverland? I hope wherever he is now he is well. I read in the newspaper he was committed to a mental hospital. Do you think I should have visited him there? He probably was scared to be alone. I feel so sorry for him." He ended by jumping on the bed, laying flat on his stomach with his arms under his chin, batting his eyelashes.

Wendy slowly turned and looked down at him. His smile had been replaced by rage, his eyes rolling red with fury, with malice. He rose up to his knees and stared blankly at his wife. "Peter Pan is in hell, although I am sure he is alive, Gwendolyn. After all, he is immortal and there is no salvation to be found in death, only reawakening. I have not been in Neverland since he threw my dead body overboard, so your guess is as good as mine as to where he is now. You hope he is well, how nice of you to be so concerned over a servant of the devil that destroyed the heart of your one true love, a pirate captain, and then your daughter by him with one swift thrust of his dagger."

He kept his eyes, not to her, but past her. The look on his face was terrifying to gaze upon. To Wendy, it was as if any moment he would lunge forward at her and strangle out the life she held within her. He did not move toward her, but spoke in a slow soft voice, gentle and comforting, strangely uncharacteristic for Captain Hook, "I didn't read about him in the newspaper, but I was there when he was committed to the ground in potter's field having thrown himself out a window to the unforgiving pavement below. How ironic it is that I was the priest sent to give him last rites. You should find some comfort that he did not suffer long, although there were others who befell the same fate at his hands that suffered for eternity. It would not matter had you visited him there in the mental ward, he wouldn't have known who you were anyway. He was not scared to be alone for Lucifer was with him. Again, how nice for you to be so concerned."

"James…" Wendy managed, moving to him gingerly with her arms out. He slumped down still on his knees and lowered his head.

"You see, Gwendolyn, I don't speak of your mother, for there is nothing to say and I don't want to talk about her now. I thought I made that abundantly clear years ago on the Jolly Roger. You had questions and I gave you the answers. You obviously still have questions; only this time the answers are not what you want to hear."

He looked up to Wendy, the blue in his eyes returned. "I love your mother. But not in the way you are thinking. She is not whom I think about when we make love. She is not the one I thought about when we were married. I did not want your mother standing up at the altar with me. I wanted you there, dressed in white. I married you, Gwendolyn, and gave you a baby, because you and you alone are the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Your mother came first, and there is nothing I can ever do to change that. I can never make you my first love. Peter Pan came first for you. There is nothing you can do to erase him from existence; thus, I will never be your first love. But we are together now. My heart beats for you and only you, and Gwendolyn, it has since our first kiss. Your mother's heart beats for George and only George. Your father's heart beats for your mother and has always only beat for your mother. Whom does your heart beat for?"

A tear escaped down his cheek and Wendy, his wife, was there to catch it and wipe it away. "You, my heart beats only for you." She touched her brow to his and stole a kiss, a short, sweet loving kiss. She placed her hands upon his face and held it up to hers. "Why do you still carry her picture?"

It was a fair question, and he gave a fair answer, "Because I can no longer feel her in this heart," James gently touched his chest, "and her absence there has left an empty space that has yet to be filled."

"Not even by me?" Wendy asked, her tears returning.

James shook his head and then brushed his lips to her hands. But it was not what she thought at all, so he clarified, "Father James Dunange never knew Neverland, and so, here, it has been obliterated from my being. All the emotions from that place, good and bad, I carried with me there are gone. All but one…you. Just because they are not there, does not mean I don't remember what it was once like. Your mother is the closest thing I will ever have to recalling the accomplishments of my never-ending difficulties. My prides, my joys, my victories, do not rob me of that, Gwendolyn. They will be replaced one day soon enough by our own life together, and not even your mother's heart will be able to return them to me. And when they are forgotten, so will Queen Mary and Captain Hook."

Wendy would never rob James of his prides, his joys, especially when he promised new prides and joys to be made together. Therefore, with his words, she fell into his arms and began showering him with endless kisses and kindness. James reciprocated the affections and unlaced the robe that hid her silk and satin gown. That came off as well, and soon both were bare on the blankets kissing and cuddling. Wendy was round in the waist, so her on top was better and that was the position they chose for this encounter. It was a loving experience for only the two of them and when it ended, it left them out of breath, and wanting more.

James spooned his wife, rubbing his nose over the sensitive skin of her neck. She moved her head just enough to catch him in another kiss, that progressed forward into another exchange. "I love you, Gwendolyn, only you…forever…" James whispered into her ear as he moved in and out of her. She loved him as well, so she told him, "Only you, James, there has only ever been you…"


	66. Chapter 66 The Queen of Hearts

_Author's Note: My supreme thanks and endless appreciation to Cheetahlee who again waved her magic wand over this chapter and cleaned up the mess of my mind, putting a greater clarity into my fairy tale._

My Darling Love

Chapter 66 – The Queen of Hearts

_"Once in awhile, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairytale."_

_-Author Unknown_

"Tell me a story James," Wendy asked as she rested her head on his chest.

"Alright Gwendolyn…

"There was once a beautiful princess that lived in a glorious kingdom far, far away and her name was Mary. King Joseph and Queen Elizabeth had only one child, and that child was Mary, and they treasured Mary above all else. She was very beautiful and being their only child, they spoiled her endlessly. Now Mary had one love and that love was no prince, but a farm hand of peasant family and his name was George. George was a handsome man, very shy and reserved, and he never spoke to anyone, not one soul."

"Mary loved George from afar for that is all she could do. She used to gaze out her tower window and see him working in the back gardens of the castle. From the moment she awoke until dusk fell and his day of labor was finished, she sat by the tower window and dreamed of babies and happiness with George. One simple fact she was unaware of was that George felt the same way about her. He would purposely volunteer whenever he could to work near her tower in the hope of catching a glimpse of her sitting by her window. So, for many seasons, they both loved without ever saying one word to each other. And every night they both got down on their knees and prayed that somehow in someway one day they could be together."

"That's lovely James, please go on."

"Now the Princess Mary grew up and was very beautiful, and all the princes in all the lands would approach the king and queen and ask for her hand. But the king wanted his daughter to marry for alliance with the neighboring kingdom that was very powerful and often made war against weaker kingdoms. They arranged a marriage with the Prince (whose name is not important to the story), but since I know you will ask anyway, he was called Fisk, and all was set, including the date. Unbeknownst to all involved, somewhere between here and there, Princess Mary and George the Gardener had spoken and revealed their feelings to one another. They, dearest Gwendolyn, were already involved in a clandestine romance."

James softly recounted the tale, and Wendy listened, asking her first of many questions, "How did they ever get to talk? After all, peasants don't talk to royalty James, that's silly."

"This is my story, Gwendolyn, let me finish and I will explain. Anyway, George was a farm hand, and he had a talent for rose bushes, and his job was to cut those flowers in full bloom to decorate the streets of the kingdom. Princess Mary loved roses -- pink roses in fact -- and when she was born, her father had a multitude of pink rose bushes planted outside her tower. Those were George's favorite roses to cut. One spring day when they were budding into bloom, Princess Mary took leave from her window to receive the first bouquet of the new season. George presented them to her on his knees with his head lowered, the loveliest bouquet, richly fragranced. To reward his good efforts to please her, she gave him a kiss. The moment her lips brushed against his cheek, George gathered his courage and told her _'They are nothing in comparison to your beauty.'_ George blushed, as did the Princess. And every morning from that day on, George gave Mary pink roses in full bloom."

"Well, that's nice James," Wendy purred kissing his ear.

"I'm not finished, would you like me to go on?" Wendy nodded excitedly, now leaning her head on her elbow. James gazed at the ceiling and continued.

"So Princess Mary and George, a peasant, began a love affair to match any I have ever seen with my own eyes with exception of your parents…." He turned his face to see Wendy and she replied with a pleasant smile. "Princess Mary was truly a virtuous maiden in every sense of the word. George, even though he was poor and lived in a little shack alone, was a honorable gentleman and the two shared only their perfect kisses, stolen in the moonlight where they met in secret."

"Now Princess Mary knew her parents would never approve of George, and no one could know that they loved. So George's kisses were hidden in the right hand corner of her mouth away from prying eyes. And they were very good at hiding their affections and no one knew they loved. That was until one day while strolling along a long forgotten path Queen Elizabeth discovered her daughter's interests in another as she found them dancing together in the forest one afternoon, and she was furious."

James touched Wendy's lips with his fingertips, and then straightened her disheveled locks off her face. "She called all those living in her kingdom to court, and with her husband the king, and her daughter, the Princess Mary on their thrones, George was led in. He'd had a nasty morning with the knights of the kingdom. They had seized him from his bed and dragged him through the streets. They tied his hands out in front of him and then attached the rope to their horses. First they trotted down the roads at a quick pace to wear him out and once he faltered and fell they'd dragged him along behind, scraping him, bruising him, beating him against the cobblestone. And with the court filled gable to gatepost with all the residents of the kingdom inside the knights galloped into the gathering with the near lifeless body of poor George trailing behind."

Wendy's tears now fled her eyes as James continued.

"Princess Mary stood up and cried out in agony as if she could feel all of his punishment for loving her. But there was to be more punishment, and this time George would not be the only one made to suffer. The Queen informed the King, and the King had made a decision that would alter the entire universe for all eternity. He decreed the kingdom was to hold a tournament with all the entertainments that come along with having one in one month's time. The main event was to be man versus beast. George the man would face off against the beast, a very hungry lion. We both know that is unfair play, but that was his order and so it came to pass. The tournament was set for the middle of July and George was to remain imprisoned for the entire month in the dankest darkest cell in the dungeon of the castle alone until then. He was to have no mercy cast upon him and he suffered endlessly alone in a cold hell, tortured daily at the hands of the kingdom's executioner."

"Please don't tell me that's the ending…" Wendy wept.

"No, it's not Gwendolyn, but this not a happy tale. I can stop if you want."

Wendy shook her head, "No go on."

"Alright. So, George was in hell and Mary was locked away in a tower. The King and Queen feared that theirs was never to be an easy existence with their daughter as the wife of King Fisk, if George was to be eaten alive by a lion on their order. Princess Mary was very clever and backhanded, not to mention, viciously ruthless when angered. She would surely have her new husband wage war on her parents' kingdom as vengeance for her beloved's undue demise. She had already threatened to throw herself out the tower window if her parents did not release her George. And so, they barred her windows and delayed the wedding to King Fisk until the winter months. King Joseph and Queen Elizabeth both sat together and came up with another plan to save their future, their kingdom and their heirs. Now this is the part of the story with the greatest importance, Gwendolyn, so listen carefully."

"The King and Queen knew Princess Mary was very jealous, and -- dare I say? – Wicked in her way. They had spoiled her badly, and at times, she could be just that. When she wanted something, she took it, for who was anyone to tell her she could not obtain something she truly desired? And she had one belief everyone in the kingdom was aware of; _'if I can't something I want, neither can anyone else.'_ They knew she had the potential of becoming evil beyond evil, and that included everything in her life, not just George. So they devised a simple choice to be made by the princess."

James turned his face from Gwendolyn and back to the ceiling. "Princess Mary was told that at the tournament there would be two doors. One would hold a lion, a very hungry lion that would surely swallow her George up whole with one bite, and the second would hold a magnificent maiden, even more attractive and splendid than the princess herself. And the King and Queen should know, for they picked her especially for George, well aware that Princess Mary hated her, envious of her beauty and charms. The princess would have to choose, choose which door would be opened to her darling love. If she chose the door with the lion, George would be killed and it would be his blood on her hands, but at the very least she would never have to worry that she would lose him to another, especially one as exquisite as the maiden. If she chose the maiden, George would be married that afternoon at the tournament, and the Princess herself would serve as witness and name them, George and the maiden, husband and wife. And to make matters worse, and that door more difficult to open, the King told his daughter, the Princess Mary, that the fair maiden would then serve as her lady-in-waiting, forever."

"So you can well imagine, Gwendolyn, what the both the princess and poor George must have been going through at the time."

Wendy nodded her head, "What a sad tale, but there is a happy ending? Right?"

James did not look at her only holding his eyes in front of him, dazing off into nothingness.

"Princess Mary asked for only one request from her parents, and that was to see George before the tournament. She had prayed and prayed to God for the first time in her life, asking for mercy. Not only for her George -- whom she knew would be ripped apart before her very eyes by the lion -- but also for herself – for she would be forced to watch and live with the decision she had made the moment it was presented to her. She received an answer on both measures. She was granted access to George the morning of the tournament and God Himself answered her that same day only a moment before she entered into the hell in which her was beloved trapped. He said to Princess Mary, **_"Queen Mary, this sacred day, in front of God and your kingdom, you will choose between the lion and the maiden. And in that choice, for all eternity, you will name whom you love more…yourself or George…"_**

"Mary saw George that morning, as he lay a broken mess on a cold damp floor. She stood before him with a face like stone as he pledged his undying love to her. George told her he trusted her heart to do what was right, and whatever door she chose, he would willingly accept. For, in the time it took to reach the door of the dungeon, the King had added one more significant amendment: George had the final say in the door. If he felt the Princess had chosen to kill him with the lion, he could choose the opposite with the maiden, or if he preferred the lion to the maiden, he could do that as well. The one sure outcome was that George and Mary would never be together in this life, on Earth. Either by her hand or his, trust or betrayal, that afternoon they would be parted forever. It did not matter, at least not to George, for he swore his undying trust to the wicked Princess' heart. And Gwendolyn, she was wicked and hateful and malicious and God was just as sure as the King and Queen that the Princess would surely choose the lion and all their problems would be resolved. In God's eyes, Princess Mary would be punished on earth as well as in Hell after. It was to be a fine mess that Lucifer would have to sort out in the never ending fires of hell."

"She chose the maiden…" Wendy whispered as James turned his head towards her and nodded.

"George stood before the crowd, and the king and queen sat on the their thrones and turned to the princess to give her verdict. Her father had placed the lion to the left, as it would be easier for her to remember. She had walked past both, the lion and the maiden, on her way to the royal dais. She showed no emotion, and looked as she did at all other times, the proper princess, aloof and unconcerned regarding the fates of others, as always, with a cold heart that pumped ice through her veins. She looked down at her George, and one single solitary tear ran down her cheek. George lowered his head, only to have it yanked up by the rope tied around his throat. With his eyes to hers, she chose right - as did George, unquestionably - and into his arms ran the most beautiful adoring gorgeous woman God had ever created."

Wendy held her eyes to James, there was no smile between them only a somber expression. "What was her name?" Wendy asked.

"Lorraine…" James closed his eyes as his lovely wife Wendy moved into his embrace and rested her head back down on his chest, hiding her face and her tears. "I never met a Lorraine. I have never even heard that name spoken before by anyone," she said, looking into her husband's face.

"Why would you, Gwendolyn? It is after all only a story. But no matter, the King and Queen were dumbstruck, as well as God who nearly fell off His throne in heaven as the princess pronounced them husband and wife, and the Lady Lorraine became her loyal lady-in-waiting."

"That's not the end, James? No, it can't be! I'm sorry to interrupt you again, but now you must tell me the happy ending." Wendy had literally jumped up on the bed, and now rested her head back lovingly down upon his chest nearest his beating heart.

"Well, so shocked by her daughter's decision to spare George his life, the Queen dropped dead right there on the throne. Her father, King Joseph, went to the grave soon after. Now Princess Mary was the Queen and she gave George the promotion of coin counter for all the king's wealth. The Prince that was supposed to marry Mary, enraged that she had slighted him for a pauper, engaged a rival kingdom in war, and was killed on the battlefield, leaving the new Queen no further suitors, which was fortunate, for she would not have accepted them anyway, for she said herself that fateful day, _'After my George, there will never be another, for no other man will ever hold his place in my heart...'_"

"That can't be the end, James? There has to be more." Wendy wept, wiping her face on a blanket.

"Oh yes, there is more. George and Lorraine made babies together, four of them, in fact. Every other year for seven years Queen Mary endured a constant reminder of all the happiness that had been stolen from her. She watched Lorraine's waist expand, she waited as did all others serving in the castle as, one by one, Lorraine birthed without the slightest troubles or complications. She sat upon her throne as the bishop baptized the children of George and Lorraine, and one by one she saw all of them grow up. She gazed out her tower window and saw George and Lorraine walk the grounds of the castle; she heard others speak of their happiness and never ending joy with one another. She was there as they spoke of family things, such as bills and holidays and children. And the most peculiar thing was that Queen Mary, wicked and evil as everyone always believed she was, even though silent in those early years of their marriage, was truly happy for them."

James touched Wendy on her head to gain her attention. "Queen Mary smiled and showed every emotion held within her heart plainly on her face except one, malice. Those in her kingdom feared her anger and wrath, with George and Lorraine blissfully flaunting their happiness before her. But the Queen never showed even the slightest hint of it. And for years not one rule in the kingdom was broken, and Queen Mary held her tongue the entire time, never speaking even one word to anyone. Then a thief was caught."

"A young man, caught stealing bread to feed his wife and family, was dragged to the Queen for his sentence. He shook in his shoes, waiting for what he knew was to come, for either he would lose his hand or his head, but no matter for the wicked Queen would make him pay for the sins of her lover and his new wife.

"But, something had changed in Queen Mary. She had learned what it was to love others more than herself. Therefore, the wicked witch was defeated, and Mary magically transformed into a very fair and merciful Queen by her own decisions. Instead of taking a hand away from the man, she gave him one, and a profession in her kingdom so he could support his family. That was the first time since George and Lorraine married, that Queen Mary addressed her kingdom formally and expressed for all to see her famous mocking grin. Oddly enough, that lovely soothing voice was more beautiful than anyone had ever remembered."

James stopped for a moment and ran his fingers through Wendy's hair and delighted in the story's climax. "Soon, peasants and paupers came in droves to her, asking for aid, and always she listened and always she did her best to show compassion to them. The people of her kingdom loved their queen, and were always loyal and adoring to her for those extra steps she took to ensure the happiness of all those around her. And always, no matter what, Mary was happy. She sat on her throne and listened as those in her kingdom presented their troubles and plights. She would write down her decrees and resolutions, and these would be read aloud in her court. In her age, she was considered the wisest of all Royalty and there she sat with a concerned and very caring face with her hands on her lap and listened. Everyone in the kingdom, including George and Lorraine, always gathered to hear her speak. She dedicated her work, her kingdom and her heart to God.

"Now you must know, Wendy, for this is important to the story, Mary, George and Lorraine became the best of friends. She loved them both dearly, and they loved her the same. The compassion she had for her kingdom, she had for all those in her charge. She kept a watchful eye over them, and made sure they always had everything they needed to live their own happily ever after. Even if that meant she was left old, alone and unloved."

"But you said she was loved by her kingdom? And George and Lorraine." Wendy spoke up.

"Yes, she was. But your kingdom cannot hold you at night when you are lonely. Your kingdom cannot comfort you when you are sad. Your kingdom cannot hold you up when your legs fall weak as those you love are lowered into the ground. Your kingdom cannot marry you and give you children. George and Lorraine were husband and wife, and Mary would never come between them nor interfere with their marriage. There were hardships she carried in her heart, not another soul, with the exception of God, was aware of. Therefore, as far as this story goes, she was unloved."

Wendy sat up in bed, quite suddenly and most unexpectedly. She spun around and got up, fastening on her robe and then placing on her slippers, "That George was a fool, and he tricked Mary. George and Lorraine used her! She would have been better off feeding him to the lion, shoving it in her face that he had taken another lover, knowing that his wife was in the constant company of the Queen. Yes, James, she should have fed George to the lion, and then punished Lorraine for even allowing herself to be present to him in her place! It must have been torture seeing her swollen and pregnant by George, knowing those children should have been hers."

Wendy was about to storm from the room when James sighed somberly and rolled over away from her. She stopped at the doorway and glanced back to him. James continued, "Mary told George in the dungeon she would choose the maiden, for she would rather him be alive and happy then be dead and buried. She told him to marry the maiden and have a family and be jubilant in his years. She made him promise to love the maiden and treat the lovely lady as well if not better than he would have treated her. Princess Mary told George, she would love him still from afar, but she would not love him if he did not at least try to live the life God had laid out for him. And so he did. Everything George did in his life from that moment on, he did for Mary. He married the maiden and raised with her children; he was a good provider, a better husband and the best father. And he did love the maiden, as much as he loved Mary simply because it was she who told him to. For that reason alone, Gwendolyn, he loved all the more.

"And as far as Lorraine, well, Gwendolyn, she had her crosses to bear in life. The Queen went to see her before the tournament as well. She told Lorraine to take good care of George, give him children and a happy home. _'Make him happy, love him, go onward in your lives without worry of me, for I will never do anything to avenge the mistakes of my parents.'_ And Lorraine did. After all the years they spent their lives intertwined in the castle, they remained close, and were the best friends. George and Mary were both contented to, at very least, have that together. And as Queen Mary got down on her knees every night and prayed that God always keep George and Lorraine in the corner of his eye, George and Lorraine did the same for Mary."

Wendy returned to the bed and lay down, spooning James. "Queen Mary died first, peacefully, in her sleep, for God is merciful and appreciated her great works on earth and would not take her any other way. Every day thereafter, George would go to her grave and leave pink roses in full bloom. He lived on for twenty-five years after her, and saw his children's children, and their children. And never once, in all those years after she was carried to heaven on a chariot of all the love she never had in her life, there was never a day that went by where somewhere in the kingdom there was not at least one bouquet of pink rose in full bloom for George to pick. The end."

"That's a horrible story James. My grandpa Joe told me once the only good story worth telling is one where there is a happy ending. That is not a happy ending, that's depressing and sad and I think I shall have nightmares for a month because of it." Wendy was not impressed, and actually jeered with discontent at her new husband as she sat up in bed with her arms crossed.

Her expression made him chuckle, as he rolled on his side to face her. "Why are you so angry? It's only a story."

"What of George, he didn't suffer? The princess was the only one who suffered? Was that her punishment for being wicked and spoiled? And after all the good she did, God's reward was to carry her to heaven on a chariot of love? That's not fair." Wendy got up and walked to the window. She gazed out into the moonlighted ocean. James also stood and followed behind her.

In his embrace he offered quietly, "Gwendolyn, they loved each other, and by loving each other they accepted their lives for what they were. They did the best they could do with the life God gave them. We all have our crosses to bear, and George and Mary bore them. God smiled down on them. Everyone has hardships they must overcome to be rewarded in heaven. They were happy in their lives, truly."

"So God rewarded them in heaven then? Oh really, how so? I hope they at least got to be together in heaven?" Wendy asked with a raised brow.

"No, I don't think they met up in heaven, you see there has to be fair play and that means…" James began to stutter his explanation.

"Goodness, now you are talking about fair play. What, there are rules and nonsense as well in this story? I should have just been happy with your first ending. That's even a worse ending James. Really, you shouldn't tell stories." Wendy interrupted as she pulled away from her husband.

She strolled to the bed removing her bathrobe and James climbed in beside her. The baby resting in her body began to wake as she wished to slumber and moved about making whatever position she attempted to lay in uncomfortable. James nestled near her and placed his hand on her belly, soothing the little miracle back to sleep with his gentle touch. Soon Wendy drifted off to sleep as well. James looked out the window to the heavens above and said a prayer for his beloved wife and his child she carried within her. His last words were not for God's ears, but for another, "Mother, help me help Wendy…"

God was eavesdropping and looked down and saw James and Wendy resting safely and snuggly in their newlywed bed. When He was sure she was completely asleep, He whispered, **_"Alright, James, if Gwendolyn really wants a happy ending, then she shall help us make one…"_**

Wendy Angelina Darling, in the body of her former self, the age she was when she first ventured to Neverland, found herself in the street of a far away kingdom in the middle of the night. She strolled along the cottages darkened until she found one with a single candle lit in the window. There lay George with his wife Lorraine by his side. It was clear even to the young dream Wendy that George was on his deathbed. But the part Wendy found most peculiar was that although she was obviously there to see George, the king's coin counter, he was not her father in the flesh. 'Well, maybe,' she thought, for the George in this story did not wear spectacles.

They were somewhere in the middle ages, for his wife Lorraine, was dressed in a pretty gown of when Knights rode in suits of armor. She looked nothing like her mother Mary. She was petite and pretty, with gray long spiral locks that still fell down her back in cascading waves of perfection. No one noticed Wendy staring in the window, or when she tapped on the glass and knocked on the door. Feeling as though she were simply looking at a memory, she turned the knob and entered the cottage for a better look.

Lorraine sat by her husband, offering her touch to soothe him and words of kindness to ease him. Wendy knew if her father were on his deathbed, her mother would surely do the same thing by climbing into bed beside him and begging for God to take her along with him. "Oh yes, my mother would never let father die without at least him hearing one last 'I love you' a hundred times. My mother would be praying for him, and she would not be parted for him and I think you very nice for not leaving him at a time when he needs you most." Wendy spoke to a Lorraine who was deaf to her words. The fair maiden, aged and elderly in time, only sighed her dismay at her husband's decline. A wave of jealousy coursed through Wendy, even in the body of a child for she knew it would pain her mother so to see George being taken care of by another.

George's rest was quite restless and he opened his eyes and gazed to his wife Lorraine, "Are you speaking Lorraine, I thought I heard a voice, the voice of a little girl."

Lorraine lowered her face to him, still rubbing his head gently. "No George, there is no one here but you and I." Lorraine frowned as George once again closed his eyes. Lorraine rose from beside him and headed off into the kitchen. She returned with a goblet, which Wendy assumed was meant for George; only to find his wife bolt it down and then pour herself another she drank just as fast.

"Lorraine, are you drinking?" He started with a labored cough, and she perked up her head to see his eyes open, "Yes George, but it is only water, would you like some?" He nodded and Lorraine lowered the goblet to his lips. "Thank you Lorraine." He turned his head showing the ache in his face, "I think it best if you do not look for me in heaven for I want to be with Mary there, it if that's alright."

Finally, Lorraine smiled and held her hands over George's. "Yes George, I think that's best. She will be so happy to see you." She leaned in a placed a kiss upon his forehead.

"Lorraine, do you think she will be angry?" Lorraine still smiled, and now displayed it from ear to ear, "No George, she will be delighted you loved her enough to love another. It's all right, George; I know she will be proud. You have always been a wonderful husband to me and devoted father to our children. I love you, go to her now, she is waiting…"

Wendy didn't know it at the moment, but she was being pulled back out of the cottage and up into the air. The sensation reminded her of flying to Neverland, but instead of going straight ahead she was violently jerked upwards so quickly it terrified her. She closed her eyes as she softly landed down alongside of a giant throne of white marble. The man sitting a top was lofty in the clouds, but he had a thunderous voice that echoed throughout the room it was in as he spoke. Second thought, Wendy thought, was she in a room?

"Heaven is a bizarre place, especially when you are not used to it." A woman cloaked in head to toe white spoke up from behind her. Wendy was afraid to turn around and afraid to ask, so the angel standing guard answered, "No dearest heart, you are not dead, you're only dreaming." Wendy slowly and very cautiously began to shift her head to the side catching a glimpse of an enormous wing that stuck out like a sore thumb in her peripheral vision.

"Look dearest heart, the man you await has arrived." A white glove extended past Wendy, who was still too frightened to turn around and see what exactly it was addressing her, but she did see George ramble along in line with the crowd that went on for as far as her eyes could see.

"FATHER!" Wendy shouted and began running to George, who at least in heaven could hear and see her. Unfortunately, he had no idea who she was and was even more bewildered when she charged into him, knocking him to the ground and began kissing him endlessly on the cheek. "Father, it's ME! GWENDOLYN! I mean WENDY! Where is mother, is she coming? How did it happen father? I am so happy you got to walk down the aisle and see me marry James. Oh father…"

Wendy embraced George who was rigid like a board, "Excuse me child, I think you are mistaken. My daughter's name is Susan, not Wendy."

Wendy had already helped him up and wrapped her arm around his as the line progressed further ahead. With George's confession and title to her as "child" Wendy realized this George was not George Darling, but the George from James' story. She jerked her head to him and simply replied, "Did you not have a child with Lorraine you named Gwendolyn?"

George stopped and reared his head back, surprised by the girl strolling alongside of him odd question.

"Keep the line moving please," Someone flying aloft above them shouted down.

George straightened his cloak and then uncomfortably took back Wendy's arm and replied, "Since you ask child, Lorraine and I have three sons and a daughter who was named Susan … not that Gwendolyn is not a lovely name, but Lorraine liked it, so that is what we chose. I would have chosen Georgeanne." Wendy could tell by George's saddened face at the thought of Lorraine and his soft voice he too had suffered as much as Mary.

"That was Queen Mary's favorite?" Wendy asked leaning into him as she did and George replied with a simple head nod. "Then why did you not name your daughter that?"

George shook his head quickly, "No, for that would have broken her heart. That was her special name for our daughter."

Wendy released George's arm harshly, and asked angrily, "Do you think marrying Lorraine and giving her your children and spending all your years loving Lorraine and making love to Lorraine, did not break Queen Mary's heart?"

George looked about at all the other souls in line staring at him wide eyed. He yanked Wendy by her arm and shushed her with, "Do you think she had a broken heart? I mean did she tell you, Queen Mary, that I broke her heart? I did as she asked of me. She told me to be married and be happy and have children with Lorraine. She told me to be a good and loving husband and a devoted father to my children. She told me to love them more than I loved her, for that is what she truly wanted. I did my best. I did it all for her. Do you think she is angry with me?" His bewildered expression and the worry filling his eyes convinced Wendy this man before her dressed like the king's coin counter was only her father in costume, for he would have had the same reaction of apprehension regarding her mother.

Thus, Wendy shook her head and patted his back comfortingly, "Oh no, I'm sure she is not angry at all. You did a fine job as husband and father. May be someday you will even get to see Queen Mary again."

Wendy had inadvertently made matters worse, for George jerked his head up and yelped, "Why would I not see her? Do you think maybe I won't? You said 'someday' as if I will have to wait. I have already waited so long to see her again…" His voice cracked as his eyes filled with tears, "I thought we were to be together in heaven…She promised me she would wait for me there…here, I mean, in heaven…It is Mary I want to spend my eternity with…"

Wendy tried her best to make George feel better; she still patted his back gently and then wiped a tear or two that escaped his eyes. "It's all right Sir, maybe you won't have to wait that long…" was all poor Wendy could come up with as her heart broke along with his. After all, James had told her the story, and although she did not hear the entire explanation of what came after death parted Queen Mary and George, the peasant gardener, she was sure there was no happily ever after for them in heaven. It came to her mind quickly, so Wendy blurted, "At least Queen Mary did not feed you to the lion!"

"I know," George mumbled, lowering his distraught face, "I just wish sometimes that she would have."

Wendy bit her lip as she looked anxiously up at him and he, catching her own distressed expression at his words, lifted his head. "Had she done that Sir, she would be in hell."

To lighten his seriously disheartened face Wendy spun about on her feet, like a child twirling about in the spring sunlight. With her brightest smile she declared, "Be joyous, you are in heaven!"

"Heaven will be no heaven, child, if I do not get to spend my eternity here with Mary. My Mary, my lovely Queen Mary..."

"I'm sure she is around here somewhere. When we get to the front of the line, I will ask myself of her whereabouts. I promise." Wendy valiantly offered. To seal her scared promise, she bestowed a kiss on George's cheek, leaning up to him on her toes. Their eyes met for what seemed like forever to Wendy, before George broke their stare and began gazing about to anything but the child that still held him by the arm. "Gwendolyn…what a lovely name…who named you, child?" George asked, keeping his eyes from her, as if he was afraid to know the answer, tottering back and forth nervously on his feet.

"My father." Wendy simply stated with a smile.

They stood together in silence and slowly crept forward in line. Every so often George would turn his face bit by bit to gaze upon Wendy's face. The moment she moved to look at him, he quickly shifted his face forward and glanced about as if he was never staring at his child to begin with. Finally when she could stand it no more, Wendy shouted, "WHAT?"

George teetered on his feet back and forth nervously again with Wendy holding her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. "I'm sorry, child, it's just… I can't help but notice how closely you resemble my --"

Wendy finished his sentence quietly, both father and daughter staring at one another, "Your Mary … lovely Queen Mary…"

George nodded his head, "She is and will always be the Queen of my heart."


	67. Chapter 67 The Broken Wing

_Author's Note: This is total fiction of my own creation; it is not written to offend anyone's personal views on religion. I am catholic, so I base my own theories and narrative on those beliefs. I completely understand other faiths have different viewpoints and ways of thinking. And so, with that in mind, this is mine…_

My Darling Love

Chapter 67 – The Broken Wing

_"The gates of Hell are open night and day; smooth the descent, and easy is the way: but, to return, and view the cheerful skies; in this, the task and mighty labor lies."_

_-Virgil_

Just as Wendy was going to speak again, George got to the front of the line, and the ground underneath where they stood shook. The marble flooring, if that is truly what it was, cracked. Smoke and fire rose up from below and the sounds of steel and iron were heard bending in loud heinous noises painful to the ears. Trumpets sounded and the wind blew through the crowd of souls knocking each over to the ground. **_"No worries, dearest hearts, that's just the archangels flying overhead readying for battle."_** A thunderous voice bellowed out from a top the throne before them.

"Battle?" Wendy asked, looking above, **_"Lucifer and his minions are attacking the gates again, do not worry, child, you are safe. Stand at my side."_**

Who was Wendy to question God? So she did as she was told, and stepped to His side, actually, only the side of the throne. George stepped forward as he was summoned. The angel called "**_Jane,"_** for that is what God called her, the same that spoke with Wendy, stood before the throne and opened a ledger of gold.

Wendy finally saw what the cloaked angel looked like. Tall and imposing, with enormous wings layered from neck to waist, protruding out through her heavenly robe, almost as if the cloak she was adorned with was not really a cloak at all. Not a costume or clothing, part of her body, it draped over her face, masking her identity. There was not one part of her true essence or shape exposed to the human eye, except her wings.

Wendy assumed it was God's invisible fingertips turning page after page after page in the ledger, and then when there were no more pages, there was only silence. George waited quite anxious to see his lovely Mary in her glory in front of God on his throne, looking about, expecting to see her run to his awaiting arms. But God it seemed had another agenda. **_"What do you think, Jane, handsome is he not? You know I crafted him myself. A very handsome mold of man I have never used on an angel. It would be a waste of heart to not make him the same and another also. Yes another, and yes, an archangel also I think…"_**

Jane, the angel, still holding her place in front of the throne, turned around completely to appraise George. She concurred with God and he spoke, "**_Very well, let it be then that archangel be created this day in heaven cast in George's likeness. He shall be in Jane's care and under her watchful eyes. What shall you call him, Jane?"_**

Although it could not be seen from under her hood of white, Jane's face was delighted and her wings flapped in anticipation of the honor. "James, I love the name James … One of my very best friends is named James. Saint James, dearest Lord, You titled him Yourself specifically, the lesser…"

"_**Named for Saint James the Lesser…he, who is the brother of God. Wise choice, Jane, very wise of you…"**_

And as God spoke, without question, there he was. James Hook, as Wendy Angelina Darling once knew him, standing completely erect with long dark locks of curls and angelic crystal blue eyes open to heaven for the first time. He was a bit different than Jane, there was no cloak covering him, only a wrap draped in heavenly white over his shoulder and around his waist. Already an adult in form, his mighty wings broadened out, flapping to stretch and show their enormous strength. In his right hand he held a spear, in his left a dagger, and as Jane whispered in his ear, red replaced the blue in his eyes, and without a word he took to his wings was gone. **_"Hmm … a rebellious one he will be … all there already in his heart."_**

Jane shrugged her shoulders, seemingly at that moment, not too concerned with James' fate, "He is so very handsome. I'm sure he won't be any trouble at all. I'll watch after him myself, thank you."

**_"You are his mother, Jane …"_**

Apparently Jane was not expecting a response, so when God replied, she looked upwards to where he rested above the clouds out of sight. She slowly moved about and faced George and repeated to George God's judgment without taking a breath so quickly Wendy heard not one word of it except, "Therefore, you are to be sent back to earth minus said years before already served."

George swallowed hard on the knot in his throat and wiped sweat from his brow. Before he could speak up, Jane spoke for him, "Do not wonder after your Mary, she is going back as well. As a matter of fact, George, one of her children is standing right over there." Jane pointed to Wendy who waved with a jolly grin to a bewildered George on the verge of tears. For first time since he arrived, he smiled as tears fled his eyes and returned the wave.

"Mine with Mary, please?" he politely asked in a whisper, and Jane, humbled by his adoring gaze at Wendy, looked up to the clouds and the Lord upon his throne. God must have been humbled as well, for Jane looked to George and nodded, "Yes."

"I shall name you Gwendolyn!" he called out to Wendy and she jumped up and down with excitement and anticipation of being born centuries in the future.

"Remember to be patient, George, and you will know your Mary when you see her. Very well, follow me." And just like that, George was gone.

"Wait a minute, where did he go?" Wendy shouted out as another anonymous soul stepped forward before the throne. "Did you not tell him to follow you?"

"It's alright, Wendy, he's getting in another line to be sent back, did you not hear?" Jane replied, walking over to where Wendy was standing. She removed from her cloak two massive books, one was entitled, "The Goods" and the other "The Evils". Jane flipped through page after page of both, and ran her gloved white finger down the pages of each. At each book she finally stopped on a single page, and on each page she stopped at a single point halfway down, the same exact spot in each book.

Another angel took her place with the next soul, and while God read over that person's ledger Jane shouted up to him, "Smith?" There came no reply so she repeated this action and called out, "Deters?" Still there was silence, "Martin? Davis? Jacobs? Luther? Thompson?" Only silence and so Wendy asked, "Are you looking for a last name? My father's last name is Darling."

Jane removed her hood and showed Wendy the face of an angel, very pretty and quite fanciful in fact, especially when giving an agreeable smile. "'Darling' you say. Hmm…" She flipped through the books, finding the name and shouted up, "Darling? Although they are not on the same page or line. Oh no, we can't use Darling, already taken, forget it." Jane shook her head to Wendy, "No good."

Wendy would not hear of it so she shouted as loud as she could up into the clouds, "PICK ANY LAST NAME BUT FISHER! MY MOTHER HATES THE BIGGER FISH!" Jane had already begun rummaging for another surname when God spoke. **_"Darling."_** Was all he said from above and Jane slammed her books shut and retorted to a relived Wendy, "Darling it is."

Jane placed her hood back on and took Wendy by the arm, ushering her down a long corridor that appeared out of nowhere, "What does it mean if the name is not on the same page or line? Is that why the name was no good?" she asked as Jane dropped her off to a mass of people moving forwards and backwards in and out a great bright white light.

"Well, you see, Wendy, it's a very complicated procedure to choose the right family for a soul. Each soul has stuff they need to accomplish and lessons that must be learned and it's all about playing a fair game. You have to even out the goods and the evils and the knowns and unknowns or things get all jumbled up the wrong way. Let's just say, the Darlings already have much more evil to work out than blessings coming to them. That is an unpleasantly motley bunch of souls that will not mingle well with the poor George. The knowns and the unknowns aren't going to help that confusion any. It is going to be chaotic down there, well; you're down there now so you know. The one on the almighty throne up there knows in Mary's case, the devil is watching …"

Jane stopped and looked up and then back to where they had just come from. She shouted loudly, "Oh now I get it, good on you! Hide him in plain sight, wise move!" Jane's declaration that the Lord was truly in fact all knowing was appreciated with a bolt of lightening that jetted her in the rear, moving her and Wendy both forward with a giggle.

"That tickled…" Wendy exclaimed. "But why is the devil watching?" Wendy asked baffled by the information.

"You heard the story, Queen Mary was once wicked and being so rotten in her youth, unbeknownst to her, she was actually working for the him-who-shall-not-be-named working down there. And she was a very good at being bad." Jane spoke plainly, pointing below the never-ending fires that burned away in the distance. "But she made her peace with God and did her penance and proved herself worthy of her heavenly rewards. Her sins were forgiven, and she changed sides. God loves her and George so much and is so impressed by their work; He is sending them back to finally be together on Earth. The devil does not like to lose his servants, and let's just say; Mary's new life will not be full of pink roses in full bloom even with George there. For as God will always keep her in the corner of his eye, so will Lucifer. And he will use his evil powers when in play and orchestrate his own revenge using those who are closest to her, George included, but you already know that. Don't worry, there will be a happy ending for eternity, I hope."

Wendy was speechless, so Jane lightened the mood with, "Since you have seen your father and Captain Hook as an angel, do you want to see your mother?" Wendy forgot her question and its importance and she smiled happily nodding her head. Jane pointed and Wendy went running. "Remember dearest heart, she does not know you yet!"

"MOTHER! I MEAN -- MARY! WAIT! PLEASE WAIT!" Wendy was not quick enough even racing at full speed to catch Mary who was standing in another line. "QUEEN MARY! YOUR HIGHNESS! PLEASE! DON'T GO!" Wendy called out only a few steps from her mother.

At that moment, Mary caught sight of something; dare say, someone off in the distance. Wendy ran as fast as her legs could carry her, following behind Mary who was racing with twice as much speed away through the crowds. Mary single handily broke through a legion of angels trying to hold her back. "GEORGE! GEORGE! I LOVE YOU! I'VE BEEN WAITING GEORGE! I LOVE YOU! I'VE BEEN WAITING!" Mary shouted and did not stop pushing and shoving her way to her intended, an archangel readying for battle still holding his spear and dagger.

Wendy was not so lucky. She did not -- at that age in her childhood -- have the love in her heart to carry her to James Hook who awaited Mary with open arms. Wendy was held back by several others and watched in awe as Mary kissed his perfect lips and pledged her undying love to him, actually to George, for that is the name her sentences began and ended with. He dropped his spear and dagger and lifted her up into his arms gazing over her beauty. Just as she held onto him, he did also to her with just as much, if not more, adoration and affection. James could not reply nor correct her, for at the moment, in his current situation of blessed defender of heaven's gate he was unable to speak.

"Cast in George's likeness, Gwendolyn, with the same heart and all the emotions contained within it," Jane whispered from behind.

"Are you telling me, my father, George Darling, was truly my mother's first and only love? And James was cast in his likeness and not the other way around?" Wendy Darling's face was absolutely indescribable at that exact moment.

Jane grinned and held Wendy's hand to her heart, "Oh yes, and that is not even the beginning of the story. Look beyond them and you will see a devil in disguise who will tempt my son to Neverland and his fall from heaven."

Wendy gazed over her mother and James Hook to see Peter Pan, in the body of the adult she knew him as, already watching James and Mary with great interest. He snickered as James, the angel who was to become Captain James Hook later in his lifetime, placed his own kiss upon the lips of Mary, the former queen who was about to be sent back to earth as a wife and mother. In that moment, she broke their embrace and stared deeply into his eyes. "She is looking for something that is not there," Jane told Wendy.

True to Jane's words, Mary stepped away still staring at him. "You are not my George…" Mary said softly.

Mary stepped back further and further away, bumping into angels who harshly pushed and pulled her and farther from James. He attempted to follow after her and was caught by the same archangels who shoved Mary back into the lines of souls going out of heaven to their intended destinations in time. Those angels yanked James from his deepest desire, standing just as tall and powerful as he. They faced him, chest to chest with their spears and daggers, correcting his missteps away from his vocation of blessed defender of the gates, giving silent voice through their eyes, all of which burned red.

God was correct, James Hook was rebellious, and he wanted Mary. James looked beyond into the direction she had been lifted to out of harm's way, and he now stared directly at Wendy, rooted in her spot. His face filled with rage, and he pressed on to her, moving against the relentless crowd of angels that gathered to control him. Horns sounded as the infighting began amongst them, centered on James, who was defiant and unyielding in his quest. It could not be seen, but God on His throne was watching and He shook His head, displeased by the display. He, Himself, almighty in power, gave warning to James that his pursuit of love was futile at best, **_"Queen Mary does not love you, James, her heart already beats for another evident by her error in the name by which she addressed you."_**

James did not listen, if anything, God's voice only angered him more. He stepped into the line attempting to hold him back, and thrashed himself about, shrieking, emitting a high pitch noise, which caused Wendy to cover her ears. "What is his saying?" Wendy asked Jane. She could tell by Jane's silence, not to mention, her shifting about on her feet, God's voice and James' subsequent behavior had made Jane nervous of the outcome. God raised his voice again, giving his second warning, **_"She does not belong to you, James! Mary belongs to another!"_**

Still, James would not heed the advice of his comrades, or God for that matter. The only other angel present, who seemed to fight with him instead of against him, prodded him on. Oddly, this angel, unlike all others engaging in controlling the conflict of mutiny that was erupting, could speak, and he did, "Come with me, James, and I can give you all your heart desires. I promise I will get you your Queen. You will have her love and adoration, maybe not on earth, but just the same. Her name is Mary, and I swear, one day you will have her all to yourself! It is not that God cannot give her to you, HE WILL NOT GIVE HER TO YOU. Lucifer already has her, James. She has been his servant all along, and that is why God is angry with you. I'm leaving heaven for Lucifer promised me eternal sunshine and happy days away from servitude if I join him in his crusade. Hell is a far better place than this heaven. There is no work, only earthly pleasures that are unceasing. Come with me, right now. Together, we can reign in our own world away from all these foolish rules forever! All you have to do is follow me…"

God heard Peter Pan. He heard the lies and the deceit, **_"Traitor – go to Lucifer then, Pan. See how much better you will fare as his servant as opposed to mine…"_** Peter Pan heard and took flight, only to be struck down by an angel who flew overhead, another that been appraising the entire situation below.

"Who was that?" Wendy questioned Jane, for she could not see him in his all-encompassing light that radiated around his being.

"St. Michael the archangel … He who is God-like …" Jane whispered in reply.

Wendy began to pray, although she did not know why, "St. Michael the archangel, defend us in the day of battle, be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil … by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all other evil spirits who prowl through the world …"

Wendy repeated her prayer over and over again, louder each time, almost to the point of shouting at the top of her lungs, when in her sights came into view the shadow of Satan himself, leering at the goings on, right outside the gates of heaven. A horrid creature, frightening, ferocious and evil, terrified the child Wendy was in heaven nearly to the point of insanity. He was not at all like the pictures she had seen of him in storybooks. He was not red with horns, and hoofs for feet, complete tail. He was something far worse. He was a monster, a beast, a desecration of form and shape. The parts of him she risked gazing upon made her shut her eyes tightly. His hands held long, thin fingers with claws that twisted around covered in blood and gore. His face altered and distorted, showing many of his different identities, all of whom Wendy knew, polluted with foul and vile expressions of hatred.

She began crying as he called to her, in a menacing; creepy tone, "Wendy … darling …"

"Don't look at him … don't listen to him … Ignore him …" Jane spoke, quickly disrobing from her white cloak. She removed a sword from its sheath that hung about her waist, and stood in front of Wendy in defense, hissing and shrieking her own words of warning at the devil that Wendy could not understand. Still, in an ominous, haunting voice, taunting the child Wendy hid in, he cried for her.

Lucifer, the true devil, in the flesh, wept like an infant at the gates, changing his entire form once more to that of her own daughter with Captain Hook she left in her parent's care who had died at the hands of Peter Pan years before, her Baby Jane, _"Please … Please Mama … let me in … I'm cold, Mama, hold me … help me, Mama, I'm scared … God won't let me into heaven because of you … please, Mama … I miss you and Daddy …"_

"Unfair play, Lucifer! Stand down!" Jane commanded interrupting him. She seemed to grow in size, as did her wings, which spread to enormous lengths to shield Wendy. Something pulled at Wendy, something tugging in her heart. She could feel the temptation, the bad in her heart, the want and desire, the sin, all trying at the same time to burst forward and control her being.

Jane, sensing this change in Wendy, shouted harshly, "I SAID STAND DOWN!"

The devil did not listen and continued to pout, _"Oh Mama, all I want is to be with you...Why won't you let me in, Mama? Don't you love me anymore … you pray at my headstone in the cemetery all the time … I can hear you praying for me … I'm trapped in my coffin below the ground … It's cold there Mama … It's so dark… I'm so scared … I forgive you, Mama … Now let me in so we can be together … forever …"_

Although Wendy could not see it, Lucifer began to scale the gates of heaven. Jane held her sword, and now she removed her dagger, taking a step back against Wendy, securing her completely by covering Wendy inside her wings. So busy were the other angels trying to control James who was attempting to take flight, no one saw the devil's endeavored entrance back into heaven. "You cannot fly, Jane, hiding Wendy like that … Release her and save yourself," Lucifer mocked, sticking his head in between the golden gates that held him back.

Her reply to that proposal was simply, "NEVER."

And so Satan leapt up further and further, scurrying along quickly like a giant insect. He reached the top of the highest peak and looked down below, "Today, you can either save Wendy or your son. You choose, dearest Jane."

Jane opened her arms outward, holding tightly to her sword and dagger, keeping her wings around Wendy who was shaking inside against the soft feathers. "This is why James was insistent you name your daughter after me … and this is why you never forgot your promise to do it," Jane whispered to Wendy, right before she called out, **"Do your worst, Lucifer!"**

Lucifer smiled victoriously, and then pounced, jumping down at Jane with his claws extended outwards, ready to strike, slash, destroy, murder … God was watching, as He always does, and He was not having any of that. Already angered by the chaos, He did a little commanding of His own.

First He acted by sending forth a lightning bolt that hit Lucifer, and sent him plummeting back to hell. With that taken care of came another. Peter Pan was raised, by God's own hand, and cast down after Lucifer. Third and last was James. As if God lifted him out from the crowd by his wings, James was yanked up into the air away from the others. His third and final warning was one that would haunt Captain Hook for the rest of his existence, **_"If the heart I have entrusted you with, James, offends thee, dearest, cut it out."_**

James was dropped and landed before his mother, Jane. "What's going on?" Wendy asked, still hidden. She did not see James rise, nor could she see his face. His look was one of absolute rage, yet, as he gazed at his mother, Jane, that expression clouded in confusion and then resentment.

"Why?" He asked sorrowfully, finding his voice, which in truth and form, should not have been there. "I have no choice in my duties…" Jane replied as he took to his wings and followed after Peter Pan and Lucifer flying over the gates of heaven. Jane stepped forward suddenly, "my son," she whispered releasing Wendy, only to fall back next to her, lowering her head, sword, dagger and wings.

As James reached the highest peaks of the gates, he appeared to have sudden change of heart and tried to return back inside. But all for naught, for he inadvertently clipped his right wing, breaking it. An ominous sign of what was to come later in time. He fell forward, only to be hit with a spear, piercing the same shoulder blade, tossed by St. Michael. The force sent him backwards straight down towards the hellfire. "NO! HE WAS RETURNING TO GOD! PLEASE HAVE MERCY ON HIM GOD! PLEASE!" Wendy shouted.

"Do something!" Wendy demanded of Jane, "He is your son!"

"I cannot do anything, Wendy, he is deserving of his fate..."

"How could you say that? It was not his fault, he was coming back and St. Michael should have allowed him entrance," Wendy pleaded as Jane cried at the painful sight.

She simply replied, "There was no other way."

"But this is only a dream, and when it happened, I mean really happened…I was not here, right?" Wendy reasoned.

"No, you weren't here. It was not you hidden in my wings." Jane still looked outward to the gates, holding the hope in her heart, that somewhere in time, something could have been changed.

"Who then?"

"Your father, the soul of the man who was to be George Darling. Did you not see James looking at you?" Wendy nodded her answer to Jane's inquiry. "He was not looking at you, Wendy, he was looking at your father. And at that time, Lucifer used your mother, Queen Mary, as the temptation…" Jane replied.

"I don't understand…"

Jane turned to Wendy and showed her angelic blue eyes. She took her hands in her own and held them to her chest. "Do not be afraid, now close your eyes." As Wendy did, she heard the voice of Lucifer replayed in the peaceful hush of Queen Mary…

_"George please…help me…I love you…I want to be with you forever…I am not allowed into heaven for you loved another on earth…how could you? How could you love another woman more than me … please help me … make it up to me … then we can be together … we can make love as we always wanted to but never could … I have longed to feel your body and your touch … I have waited all this time George, just for you…please say you still want me George …please say you still love me… touch me … please … please George … prove that you love me … kill the archangel … kill him, George, he who was created in your likeness … kill him before he kills you … kill him so we can be together … If you don't, he is who I will love for eternity … kill the archangel …"_

Wendy opened her eyes with Jane before her. "You protected my father as you did me?" Jane nodded, "and it cost me my son. You see, my heart; it was not your mother James was after in his anger. It was your father, for he saw all that Mary held within her heart and soul belonging to him on earth. As long as George's soul was alive, Mary would always belong to him, and James would never be anything more than he was … unreal to her."

"What of Lucifer? Why would he want my father to fight James? I don't understand. What would that have done?" Wendy asked, crying hysterically.

"As James fell he begged for compassion and forgiveness. It was granted, for God is loving and merciful. But James was to be punished for sins, for the desire to love and exist in reality as man does. God, as an example, cast him from heaven. You see, Wendy, the infighting continues…" Jane extended her long gloved arm outwards towards the point James was lifted from. The angels still fought with one another. "He started a civil war among us, taking our attentions away from the demons at the gates. He might have cost us everything with his envy of man. But that will end … now …"

As she said "now" a brilliant light flashed in front of Wendy and Jane, there was no sound or movements, only silence and darkness.

"James serves his penance in Neverland, set against his fate, and his foe Peter Pan, at least until you showed up," Jane replied, looking below to the never-ending fires that still burned below. "God is not the only one with foresight. And Lucifer was already aware that there would be no happily ever after for anyone involved, Wendy, if George Darling and Captain Hook were never created. And the devil does not like happy endings."


	68. Chapter 68 Out of the Past

My Darling Love

Chapter 68 – Out of the Past

"_People see God every day; they just don't recognize Him."_

_-Pearl Bailey_

"I'm sorry," Wendy offered to Jane, but found her absent from her sight. She, herself, was no longer in heaven. Wendy looked about stunned to find her location changed, this time without warning.

Now she found herself in a hospital wing in the middle of the afternoon walking about bed after bed of ailing children. They were frightening to gaze upon, sickly children covered head to toe in rashes of red blisters, hacking and coughing up blood. They were all alone with not even one parent to take care of them. There were no doctors or nurses in the ward, just children crying out in pain and fear, and soon Wendy found herself weeping with them.

"Small pox, all of them. As soon as they die their bodies must be burned to lower the risk of contamination…" An older male gentleman spoke up from behind Wendy. She whirled around to inquire where exactly she was when she noticed he was a memory as well. Next to the older gentleman was a young man, dressed in a white suit of a surgeon, "Never ever go into this ward unless you absolutely have to Peter…"

"Uncle Peter …" Wendy whispered.

"It is really not safe to have your brother here either, Peter, he may be exposed. Best let him wait outside while you complete your rounds. There are other children just fighting the flu in the next ward over." With that word of advice, the man turned and left Peter smirking strangely, looking around at the children only hours away from death. He peeked about to a little boy of no more than four cowering behind him.

"George!" Peter called, yanking him out in front of him.

Before Wendy, stood her father at four years old. He was a cute little boy with the same color hair and eyes as she. He was without his spectacles, which Wendy found unusual, for she had heard stories that he needed the use of glasses to correct his vision from the time of infancy, just like his son John after him. And still, there he was, eager to be in Peter's company, and he listened to his eldest brother intently as he was given his instructions. "George, you are to stay here and play with these children while I work. They are all good pals for you, and you must hug each one and share your lunch with them. If you get thirsty there is a glass by the fountain that the children share. Remember what mother said about sharing. I will come and get you when I am finished." Wendy stared at him, horrified.

Peter left and the George of four stood gazing out at all the children who had now seen him and began calling out for aid. George went to each one, as Peter had instructed, and gave them a fine hug. He shared his lunch willingly, and when he was thirsty from running about and entertaining his new friends, he drank from the same glass the others shared. Peter never came back to retrieve his little brother, and as night fell on the ward, George hopped into a bed on the smallpox ward and fell asleep. Wendy blinked once and saw the same George, her father only a boy of four, happy and in good health one moment and, in the space of that blink, in the same condition as all of those other infected children in the ward.

It was he who now cried out for someone to help him. He was completely alone. Not even his mother was there to save him; she waited at home with her rosary beads clutched to her heart, praying for her baby boy from a distance.

And Wendy knew this, for that is exactly what Peter told the nurse who changed George's bed sheets. "I told my mother not to bother coming, for he'll be dead by tomorrow." The nurse lifted George up, only to have his skin all but slide from his body, leaving nothing but raw red flesh covering his bones. "Ah yes, tonight my baby brother will be dead and burned in the crematorium by morning."

George had little voice left, and could do nothing but whimper as he was gently and carefully laid back into bed. The only sound he had left he used to call for his lovely Mary. Peter mocked as he casually strolled from the ward, "Did he say he wanted to marry his mommy, stupid little twit," and the nurse who turned to watch him go, turned again and faced Wendy, who was traumatized and left speechless by the actions of her once beloved Uncle Peter.

She was not an ordinary nurse, she was just Jane disguised as one. "There is evil done…" she began, "that only God Himself can deflect…" she ended, pointing to a little man dressed in priestly garb who entered into the ward utilizing his handkerchief to cover his mouth escorted by another physician doing the exact same thing. The priest nodded, and the doctor took a quick flight, leaving the man of the cloth to his work.

Once the priest was alone, he lowered his handkerchief and began walking from bed to bed-to-bed gazing about at all the children. He took a seat in the middle of the room and mimicked the pose Father James kept while hearing confessions.

But this priest was not listening to the sins of those innocent babies suffering in that ward; he was listening to the sins of the world, which showed on his aged and tired face. He again arose and walked about, touching some children, leaving others only with softly spoken words that eased their hearts. As he got to George, he took longer than usual. George again called out, "My Mary…" complete with tears and then the best prayer he could muster or remember at four with his very last breaths. The priest cast his gaze to Wendy, who cried harder than her father, a child dying of smallpox, alone and unloved. He pulled up a chair next to the George of four, and in a quite hush began speaking to the poor unfortunate child.

Wendy stood before the both of them, with Jane to her side. She glanced away from them, only for a moment and caught her reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall opposite of where she stood. But that moment was long enough for her to see her own childlike appearance altering completely, right before her very eyes. She watched in absolute astonishment as her hair changed hues to dark auburn and suddenly rose from the straight strands that fell to her waist, now curling into tight ringlets that rested below her shoulders. Most disturbingly, at least to Wendy, the angelic blue of her eyes - that had always been the same as her father's - dulled to brown. It seemed the tall and slim frame of her young maturity, changed as well, as she shrank inches shorter, at the same time growing rather portly in shape. "What is happening to me?" Wendy asked as she ran to the mirror to catch her lovely facial features erased from her face, replaced with those of another, unknown to her. "You are now the daughter of Biggins and Mary Fisher." Jane answered, still holding her own eyes to George and the Priest.

"NO I AM NOT!" Wendy shouted as she turned on her heel and charged at Jane, only to land unexplainably flat on her fanny as the Priest stood from his chair.

**_"No Jane, Gwendolyn is correct, she is not…"_**

There was a radiant flash of brilliant light that blinded her, and then darkness.

Wendy's vision returned as a doctor dressed in the purest white was informing Frederick Darling the Fourth, "For some reason, it appears that George has improved. Your son Peter's original diagnosis of death from his infection was wrong. It does happen from time to time. Children so young sometimes recover. Although I have to say George's recovery is nothing short of a miracle. Yes, miraculous! He is a very brave little boy who will grow into a fine young man. He may need spectacles to see, as his eyes are unexplainably damaged, but you can take him home in only a matter of days, Mr. Darling."

"Seems the worst for him is over, Peter, thank God. Do you hear me, Peter? NEVER AGAIN! You will never put any of my sons in danger again! NO MORE!" The senior Darling shouted at his son Peter as he allowed little George to be rolled out of the smallpox ward to a private recovery room Mr. Frederick Darling the Fourth had paid for himself.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that one, Father…" Peter muttered angrily under his breath.

"The light I saw, was it a miracle?" Wendy asked of Jane who still stood alongside her as she checked herself from head to toe in the mirror, the daughter of George and Mary Darling returned. "Indeed. And if something is given, then something else must be taken away. The good and the bad, there is a price for everything, Wendy, even for God. In this universe, nothing is free. That is why your father is blind now. He kept his life and paid with his eyesight."

"Why does Peter hate him so?" Wendy asked Jane, still dressed as a nurse as she guided Wendy to a full on run from the hospital out into broad daylight. "Good question. I should have explained that matter first…" Jane responded.

Wendy ran as fast as she could and realized she was no longer running alongside of Jane, but another young lady who seemed to be frightened out of her mind. It was the middle of the morning, and this woman, no older than twenty, had a clear and intended path away from her assailant. She kept on running as fast as her feet could carry her, with her dress held up to her ankles constantly looking backwards. She ran right into a very attractive, tall and rather shocked gentleman who had his hands full of his freshly baked goods ready for delivery. "Watch where you're going, you foolish…"

That was all Joseph Baker got out before casting his sights on the form of Elizabeth Duvall, or Mrs. Joseph Baker as she was to be known later in life, who had scraped her lovely hands when she landed on the sidewalk.

His fury over his ruined bread changed to sympathy and concern as he lifted her to her feet and lovingly inquired after her mad dash. "I'm, uh, late for tea…" Elizabeth managed, still glancing backwards to the empty street behind them. She gazed at him for the first time, and he caught her as she fainted. Grandpa Joe began fanning her, and Jane stepped up beside Wendy.

"Never met your grandmother Elizabeth? She was a fine woman, the best of best, if I do say so myself. For what she lived through in her life, she should be a saint." Jane nodded to Elizabeth who regained consciousness as she was lifted up by Joseph Baker and carried safely home, several blocks away. "Let me guess, that was how my grandparents met. But what does that have to do with my father?" Wendy exclaimed, not catching on.

Jane nodded and tilted her head to the alleyway closest to where they stood. With Joseph Baker carrying his soon-to-be fiancée home to her parents, Peter Darling emerged from his hiding spot. "Him?" Wendy remarked.

But Jane shook her head, "No, Wendy, him." She pointed her finger and beyond Peter, watching whatever it was that sent her grandmother, her mother's mother running for her life, was the little George without spectacles and beside him was a little Uncle Harry. "George is going home to tell his mother what Peter did to Elizabeth Duvall. The smallpox came soon after."

"I never knew my grandmother Elizabeth and Uncle Peter were nearly the same age. I wonder what he did to her that made her run away like that," Wendy asked as Jane began dancing her about on her feet in a peculiar fashion.

"It does not matter, for she never told a soul, and George does not remember. Your Uncle Harry does, though, he has yet to admit it, but he soon will. She will wed Joseph Baker in secret, because Millicent will not approve of her brother's choice, and will do everything in her power to stop it. They are to have a long secret engagement, before finally marrying alone in the church, with not even their parents present. A year after that they will have Mary."

"That is why my father is seven years older than my mother," Wendy commented as she listened to a beautiful melody that began, timing her steps and those of Jane to the beat. Jane turned Wendy overhand and into the arms of Peter Darling, who was at that moment twirling her mother off the dance floor to a side table in his parent's parlor.

"Mary, I was so fond of your mother once, but I was a fool, for she is nothing compared to you. You are far more divine and sensual. I bet you have a tight sweet little…"

Jane yanked Wendy back from that conversation, looking disgusted. "Believe me, Wendy, your mother having to hear it once was enough."

Wendy gazed in awe about the large room decorated for Christmas. The winter cotillion at Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Darling's house, Uncle Peter with Mary, whispering in the corner, George with his spectacles standing nearest his own mother, and Elizabeth Baker taking her place at the punch bowl, all was in order. "This part of the story is amazing, Wendy. It is the perfect example of how the devil gets so much done while practically doing nothing at all. You see, mankind in itself is capable of every evil, seen and unseen. You absolutely cannot miss this chapter in your parents' life, for it is the beginning," Jane explained.

Now, everyone who told this story, everyone who was involved, had a similar version, but not the same remembrance of events. So here was Wendy, in the body of a young girl, about to see the real deal and unfair play in progress. She watched as Peter stood, holding Mary's ear and the back of her dress, and his brother Charles, who stood only a few feet away holding the ear of another young lady in the same unfortunate manner. George was not watching Mary with Peter; he was watching the unlucky female named Lorraine with his other older brother. It was Harry standing opposite George alongside Mrs. Frederick Darling that gazed adoringly at Wendy's mother.

"Where are you going Harold?" Mrs. Darling demanded.

"I'm going to ask Mr. Baker's daughter if she would like punch, Peter danced her about for a hour."

Mrs. Darling rolled her eyes at Harry, "You're a filthy old goat, Harold, now go sit down and try not to get too drunk this evening."

It was obvious he was already intoxicated when he stumbled to a chair and did everything but pass out. Mrs. Darling turned to George who did not hear one word of their conversation.

"George," she shouted, yanking George by his collar. "Go ask that tramp with your brother Peter is with if she is parched."

Mrs. Darling shoved George forward. It was easy to see that her baby boy, her personal favorite, had no interest in the Baker's daughter. George quickly strolled up to Peter and Mary and asked simply, "Punch?" without looking at the lovely Queen standing before him, being held captive by a dragon in fancy suit.

"Yes, James, spiced punch for the both of us," Peter responded, shoving George, who was still looking at Charles and Lorraine, back toward the punch bowl. He called him the wrong name on purpose, to annoy his brother and taunt him with the fine specimen of woman he kept company with. George took no notice of either and hurried back, gathered the punch and returned to Peter handing him two glasses overflowing.

Somewhere between the here that was and the there that is, a fictional foot was inserted into the story. It was a simple addition to make, for no one else at the party was watching. But there was no foot, only George's clumsy hands that needed no help from any evil outside force to dump punch down Mary's dress as he hastily handed them over, in hopes of chasing after Charlie and Lorraine who were sauntering off into another room to be alone. George's eyes never left Lorraine; therefore he did not see Mary's hand attempting to fix her beautiful sapphire-colored dress covered in red punch and rum. So there was no slap from Mary's hand and there was no foul language for that matter either, only a simple, "You've ruined my dress, Sir," in a soft hopeless tone directed at her future darling, to which George paid no attention.

So, it is obvious Mary did not break George's spectacles, for they were still safely affixed to his nose as he dropped to the floor to wipe up the spilled punch. "Mother is going to kill me," George muttered under his breath, paying no mind to Mary, standing before him, dripping wet and sticky. As he laughed, Peter unknowingly released Mary who took the opportunity and fled. Wendy spun around baffled at all that was transpiring, and with her mother gone, she watched George stand and jeer at Peter, who still chuckled.

"Where did Charlie go with Lorraine?" George asked.

Peter nodded his head to another room and that is where George went. Only a few minutes later, Lorraine emerged and slapped George twice, once in the mouth and once on the cheek, this time breaking his spectacles while she called out the foul names.

The room was full of guests, and from where Grandpa Joe and Grandma Elizabeth, even Aunt Millicent stood; no one could see which young lady was shouting. Lorraine knocked George over while pushing her way out and fled the party as well. "What happened?" Grandpa Joe asked his wife, and an unnamed party guest, who had a better spot to see the action replied, "George Darling was just slapped in the face by a girl whom I believe is your daughter. She broke his glasses, used a foul tongue and left."

Aunt Millicent was the first to chase after dearest Mary Elizabeth Baker, "Did you hear the language she used Joseph? Good Lord, wherever did she hear those words…"

"I'm confused," Wendy whispered to Jane, who was sipping her own punch glass, dressed properly as a party guest in heavenly white satin.

"So apparently is everyone else," she replied, and tapped Wendy on the shoulder.

Whatever power Jane had sent the room back in time again, and now, once more, Wendy took her place inside the room where Lorraine and Charlie were engaging in a rather offensive and unbecoming passion. George entered the room and stomped his foot down. "Lorraine!" he shouted, rather annoyed that his own date to the party gave her favor away so freely to his brother when only the night before, she refused him only a kiss. Wendy knew this, for that is exactly what George, her father-to-be, yelled at Lorraine.

Charlie rose and began to fix his pants. He leaned down and whispered something in Lorraine's ear that caused her to spread her legs in an unladylike fashion, "Well come on, George, let's go then," Lorraine offered, opening her arms as well to him.

"Go ahead George, she's quite good," Charlie replied, smirking to his baby brother who was fuming.

"His brothers always tried to take away anything that gave George even the slightest joy, well almost."

Jane spoke rather loudly over George who was already snapping back, "Peter's had it at the moment you arrived this evening, he already told me and now Charlie too. Who's next? Harry?"

"Coo, I hope so. He is the one I wanted! I only did this one and your other brother because they promised they could arrange it!" Lorraine screamed back.

"Well this is one of the Darlings you will never get the honor of, and Harry as well, I will see to it myself. And I am going to tell your mother you are spoiled and far from a virgin!" He stalked from the room, and Lorraine leapt to her feet with his threat, chasing after him to create the scene to soil his reputation as an honest fellow by shouting and slapping him.

George retold the real truth to his mother after the chaos subsided and the room calmed, the merrymaking continuing, and she informed him, "See, George, like I told you hundreds of times before, women hold not even the slightest interest in you. You are thinned lipped, pale, and unattractive on the eyes. Do you need further proof, my son? She was nice and sweet yesterday, only using you to get to Harry, Charlie and Peter for that matter. Anyway, no one knows it was Lorraine that slapped you, George. Everyone thinks it was Mary Elizabeth Baker, for you spilled punch on her dress and did not even apologize. Very rude, young man, but I am not surprised, for you have no skills with the ladies."

George bowed his head, overwhelmed by both his brother's and Lorraine's behaviors that he forgot all about poor Mary. "Best to just let everyone think that. Mary Elizabeth is a quiet proper young lady who will not correct the error, especially if that horrid woman who is her aunt tells her so. Just tell everyone you tripped on Peter's foot and accidentally brushed her bosom. That will cover the insult." It was Grandma Josephine who inserted the foot then, and the brushing over Mary's bosom, for that matter.

And just as Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth said, Aunt Millicent told Mary what happened to her at the party ending with, "You should be ashamed and utterly humiliated for creating a scene such as that. No one will want to court you, Mary Elizabeth, for you have an awful temper and nasty tongue!"

Mary denied Aunt Millicent's story, "He spilt punch on my dress, and I was more embarrassed than angry, and I did not slap him."

Aunt Millicent would not hear of it, and called her niece "a petty liar."

Mary, hearing this and seeing her parents' dissatisfied faces, kept the truth hidden in her heart, to be forgotten as they years passed. Like her mother advised, she did write a letter of apology to George's mother, saying she was sorry for her performance, confirming Josephine's affirmation that the lie was now the truth.

"If you live a lie long enough, Wendy, it becomes the truth. But you already knew that." Jane commented.

"I feel sorry for my mother," Wendy mumbled, walking alongside of Jane out into the night air. "My father could not care less that he offended my mother. It's a wonder after all that they ever fell in love."

"It does not matter, Wendy, for your mother was also oblivious to your father at that party. As for their love, that's simply explained. Two bodies bound by one heart will always find each other. As I am sure you are aware, there is a perfect time for everything in life, a time when all the pieces of the puzzle fit flawlessly together in harmony. I believe it is called fate or even destiny, if you prefer. That party, the winter cotillion at the home of Mr. And Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth, was not the correct time."

In the back of the church, Wendy and Jane sat. It was full of folks making their way to the pews as mass was just about to begin. George entered, escorting his mother, and took a place in the row in front of Wendy, still in her nightgown. Mary Elizabeth Baker, her parents and Aunt Millicent made their way in and sat opposite Mrs. Darling and her favorite son, the only one in their family that attended weekly service. With her nose implanted in the prayer book, Josephine did not see where her son's attention rested.

From where Wendy was, she saw her father gaze in wonderment at her mother in her lovely pink dress. He got on his knees that very day, and Wendy heard him pray, "Dearest Lord, I know my mother wants me to become a priest, but I must say I would prefer the calling of husband and father. And if at all possible, could I marry that young lady across from me in the pretty pink dress? I promise I will love her always, and be a good husband to her and father to our children. Please God, there is no other I want to spend the rest of my life with…"

Jane giggled, but Wendy did not find it the least bit funny. "Sorry, dearest heart, it's just that your mother will ask God for the same thing tonight, although I must say she will not be as specific in her request."

Wendy saw her father and mother intermingle in public places, at the bank where he worked, in the bakery her father owned, at the park, at church, and on the sidewalk in the middle of the day. Mary never noticed George, although he did attempt to be seen. She just kept her mind elsewhere and away from him. Just like at his parent's party, only in reverse, to Mary, George was nothing special. In her mind, her heart beat for an angel named James. Odd it was that Peter had picked that name to call his brother, and George's heart beat for a girl named Gwendolyn, for at his place of employment, a colleague erroneously told him the incorrect name. She noted the observation to Jane who only nodded and smiled.

So there was Wendy in her parent's parlor, although this time it belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Baker, and they were chatting back and forth about a fine young gentleman that Grandpa Joe had met that very morning in the bakery and was bringing home for tea to meet Mary. "Oh Joseph, he is the one who spilled punch on Mary Elizabeth, and she broke his spectacles. Not a good match," Mrs. Baker replied after her husband informed her of his name.

"I just want to open the door of the house for other suitors, our Mary has none. Maybe he comes courting and word spreads, others will seek her out." His explanation was simple enough, and when George came calling, Mary saw in his eyes what was missing in the angel named James.

"Oh yes, there you are…" Mary thought to herself, although she was unaware of the meaning at the time.

George thought the same thing, "Finally we can be together."

At that moment, unseen to the naked eye, George's heart skipped a beat and changed its sound. Instead of Gwendolyn, it beat for Mary. And Mary's heart, watching her George drink his tea in silence, repeated the action, skipping a beat and pounding now and forever only for her darling love.

"The known and the unknown on this matter, Wendy, now come quickly, our time together grows short." Wendy took Jane's hand and was led into the hall closet, through the coats and into another closet elsewhere. Jane opened the door and there in the living room of an unknown residence was George sitting in his suit with another gentleman shabbily dressed. Wendy peeked down the hall and saw her mother standing in the kitchen with Margaret washing dishes.

"Not Margaret, Wendy, that is her mother, Penny," Jane corrected, and poked her forward. Wendy stood in front of George and Penny's husband, eavesdropping on their private and softly spoken conversation.

"I'm telling you, George, her parents are going to send her away. You will never see her again, for her folks hate you. You must act now. Do what I did with Penny when she wouldn't marry me. Just leave it in her when you finish. If you're lucky, she'll get pregnant, and then they will make you marry her. She'll never know Mary is untouched. She won't know any better, believe me. Penny makes fun of her all the time behind her back for being such a good girl. She loves you, George, do you see the way she looks at you? She's wanting it."

All George replied to James, Penny's husband, was "I will do no such thing until we are married."

James had a response to that. "If you don't give her a baby, George, you will never get married."

George was appalled when Mary asked him for his favor, for if she were untouched, how would she know to ask? He was utterly confused, for his brother warned him only that morning, "Mary is just playing a game, George. She sent you the invitation, wanting you to show up in the church so she can make Biggins jealous. Don't let her use you like that." And he was a little wanting himself, knowing the way Mary looked at him. 'Why would she wear that silky ensemble to bed, to tempt me? … She let me touch her breasts … I can feel the softness of her skin … her mouth … her tongue with mine … her body is so warm … she keeps touching me …"

The first time with Mary, George did his business inside of her unintentionally, plain and simple. Overcome by the sensation of her warm, wet, snug fit to his member in her womanhood, he lost control and went further than he wanted to. He did have all intentions of not finishing with her in the same room, letting the built up tension he edged closer and closer to fade away to be released later alone. But every thrust, when he was absolutely positive this was to be the last one before he excused himself to the bathroom to complete by hand, he only plunged further and deeper until it was too late. It simply felt too wonderful to stop, and as far as he could tell, Mary holding to him tightly, meant she, too, wanted him to complete. Wendy was not conceived that night, for behind the closed door away from her parents in their personal intimacies, Jane told her.

Mary slept peacefully unfertilized, and George awoke to the sounds of James also awake in the kitchen. "Did you?" he asked George, who nodded, uneasy with himself for taking Mary's virginity without a ring and the risk of placing his seed inside of her. "Just once?" James sneered, and jerked around to glare at George who again nodded. "If I had Mary in my bed I would have screwed her all night. She wouldn't be able to walk when I was done with her…"

James looked up to the ceiling; his eyes went blank as he moved his head and stared out into the parlor before him. His voice changed, from its normally rough timbre to crystal clear persuasion of the unknown. "Once isn't enough, George, you'll have to do it again if you want that baby." James approached George and draped his arm over his shoulder. "George, listen to me. You must trust me on this. You must give Mary your baby this very morning. Even after she ran away, they will still want to marry her to Biggins Fisher. They will reorganize the wedding and the marriage will happen in December. He will take her from you, George, and you will never ever see her again. Never."

George tottered on his feet, and frowned. "Probably all for the best. He would be a better husband to her."

James shook his head and interrupted him. "George, you want to marry her, make that baby with her don't you? Think of it, George, babies with Mary. You asked God for the vocation of husband and father, right now, this morning, He is giving it to you on a silver platter. Take it, George. You are the one that must choose between the lion and the maiden this time. You can make her the maiden or feed her to the lion."

James released George, the man who was destined to be Wendy, John and Michael's father stepped back. "Lion? Maiden? What is all that nonsense? Are you insane or just drunk? And how did you know I prayed to God about Mary? How did you know I asked him to make me her husband…"

James held an encouraging expression with a pleasant smile and replied, **_"I may be silent, George, but I do listen."_**

George backed away further, and turned completely around to see James move past him without another word and lay down next to his wife Penny, falling fast asleep on the parlor rug the second he closed his eyes. Wendy looked on as George slowly stepped back into the bedroom and closed the door. "People see God every day, Wendy, they just don't recognize him," Jane whispered.

Wendy could hear her mother awake from behind the closed door, and she could hear the intimate sounds of her parents making love and creating her. She wanted to stay and listen, but Jane pulled her on. "One more known and unknown, and then it will be dawn … and it will be your turn to make the happy ending."

Away into the night they went, and Jane continued with her lesson, "Now you must remember, Wendy, your mother will always be a creature of mystery. Her heart is a wealth of enigmas and confidences she shares with no one but those involved. It may appear at times to be wise or even wicked on her part. But alas, she hides things meant to be seen in plain sight to protect those she loves most of all. The known…" Wendy and Jane flew up and away and landed in the middle of the attic, Wendy's old room.

But Wendy was not residing there, instead Uncle Harry rested in the bed asleep. Wendy saw the actions of that night played out very quickly, like watching a movie and a silent one at that. Mary was scrubbing on her hands and knees in the kitchen while the devil hiding within George was plotting his next course of action. Mary bathed and dressed like a whore on Satan's command and was pushed from their bedroom. Wendy saw her mother come so close to servicing her Uncle Harry, which made her cover her eyes, due to the overwhelming suspense of the moment. Captain Hook in the hall closet came next.

The replay playing fast forward slowed as Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling climbed the stairs to the bedroom. Jane spoke up from behind Wendy, "We are tempted in our fates."

Mary was presented with two choices, both to be made of her own free will. The door to the devil or the door to the attic and escape to Neverland, for as Captain Hook told her before he departed back to his ship, "You can leave with me tonight if you like, just go to the window in Gwendolyn's room. You will never have to sleep with the enemy again, Madam."

It was frightening to Wendy to see that her mother chose the attic door. But she was not headed to the window. She crept up to Harry, trying unsuccessfully to sleep on the bed, and sat down. Slowly she slipped in beside him, and after only a moment Harry turned on his side to face her. They stared at one another for what seemed like forever. Harry lovingly touched Mary's face and gingerly kissed her.

They kissed and shifted together, and soon after, Mary's nightgown was on the floor as was Harry's pajamas. Wendy looked away as Harry unlocked her mother, lingering inside of her making Mary whimper with desire for him to move onward into her deeper. Each thrust Harry filled Mary with made Wendy weep. Harry held Mary below him, covered by the bed's blankets so there was not much to see when Wendy finally gazed upon them. But Wendy knew, being a woman, that her mother was truly making love to her uncle, not just "servicing" him. And Harry, her father's brother, adored her mother in the exact same way. Harry removed himself from his sister-in-law and left his seed on her belly, panting heavily with satisfaction.

Where Wendy expected to see her mother either crying or devastated over her misdeed, Mary comfortably stretched out on the bed after Harry rolled off onto his back, lying beside her. He raised her hand to his mouth and brushed her lips to it. "I will always be here for you, Mary, whenever you need me," Harry said, and Mary, Wendy's mother, replied, "Thank you, Harry." Mary fell asleep beside her brother-in-law, and when she was resting peacefully he carried her down the attic stairs, carefully leaving her outside her husband's bedroom.

"Seems each side of your mother's heart had a lover, Wendy. As a wife and mother it was George, as a wicked witch it was Captain Hook, and for all other times, as in this case an indentured servant trapped with the devil in hell, it is to be Harold."

Wendy was no longer a little girl dressed in her nightgown, she was again a grown woman standing beside an angel named Jane, swollen in the middle with child as she watched her Uncle Harry get down on his hands and knees and pray, "Thank You for letting me spend this night with Mary and answering my prayers. In her I know what it is to be truly loved. Have mercy on me a sinner dearest Lord, and have mercy on her and George as well."

"My father doesn't know, does he?" Wendy asked, as Jane tucked Wendy into bed alongside James fast asleep.

Jane gazed at Wendy and offered an angelic smile of peace and understanding to the troubles in her heart. "He would only know if your mother told him."

"They are not lovers, my mother and Uncle Harry?" Wendy asked, holding Jane from her leave, a brilliant white light that shone down on the bed she sat on. "No, they are not now, but in this case they were both there for one another when it was needed."

"Why I am being shown all of this?" Wendy asked.

"Because these are the things that must be known to ensure your parents a happily ever after, not on Earth, but in heaven." Jane kissed Wendy's forehead and lovingly touched her belly with a smile of true happiness.

Wendy blinked again and it was dawn, James rested beside her, holding his own hand on the spot Jane's had just relinquished. "Sleep well, Gwendolyn?" he whispered, placing a perfect kiss on her cheek.

"It is the strangest thing James, I had the most amazing dream, but I cannot remember anything of it…"


	69. Chapter 69 Sleeping Beauty

My Darling Love

Chapter 69 – Sleeping Beauty

"_Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss and ends with a tear drop."_

_-Anonymous_

Wendy did not remember her dream. James pressed no further on their train ride home as bits and pieces of it in the form of questions in her mind surfaced, questions he did not have the answers for. They returned to London and moved into their modest flat, both keeping active in their work. James, a husband and soon-to-be father, now earned another title: breadwinner. Wendy taught her art and she, wife and mother-to-be, was given another title as well, Queen of her castle. What Elizabeth Baker never got to enjoy with her daughter, Mary Darling delighted in. Wendy often came over for tea; they went to lunch and church together, and developed a relationship that would extend further than simply mother and daughter. Soon enough, they were best friends.

And for a few months, everything was wonderful and only got better. Wendy easily labored and easily delivered a beautiful baby girl. She and her husband named her Jane, to honor the daughter George and Mary had lost. Always mindful of the past, no one spoke about it and let bygones be bygones. George held Jane in his arms when she was only a minute old and, although he could not see her, he knew her.

Poor George Darling was completely blind and now also totally deaf, and his only comfort in life came when he lay in bed at night holding his wife Mary. With her beside him, he would make himself stay awake, just to spend the hours of darkness feeling her heart beat. During the hours of light, he stayed beside her always, never at a loss for her touch and that was whether she was alone with him or not. In the evening, she sat with him in the parlor in silence, and held his hand. Mary would not be separated from George, not even for a moment, and so, wherever George was, Mary could be found beside him.

It broke Mary's heart in several different places as George declined, and could not even communicate his simple requests such as asking for a glass of water. With his loss of hearing, his speech was affected, as was his outward appearance. Only seven years Mary's senior, George now seemed aged enough to be her father. He could not dress himself, nor do much else without constant assistance. He could never be left alone, not even when he used the bathroom, which George found humiliating not only for himself, but for Mary as well. Worse if he were to suffer an accident on the way to the washroom.

George felt he was a burden to his beloved, although she thought not. He fell silent due to his embarrassment that his words were slurred and incomprehensible. His crying became a constant though, as was the heartache to his lovely wife, who fell to her knees and held him until he stopped. She offered him reassuring words of her undying love and commitment to him, aware that it fell on deaf ears. She too stayed awake at night and listened to him breath, counting the beats of his heart that kept in time with hers. Mary's only peace came at times during the afternoon when George fell into a light nap on his favorite chair. Then and only then did she weep for her husband and his afflictions out loud and inconsolably.

George was ready. It came one day at dinner as Wendy and James earnestly blurted out that she was again with child, after only after having Jane two months prior. George didn't hear the happy news, but he felt his daughter's hand upon his, guiding it lovingly over her belly. He touched her face and she nodded, and he knew there was to be another baby for her and James. He clutched his wife's hand and motioned that it was time for him to retire, even before their dessert was served. Mary dressed him in his pajamas and laid him comfortably in bed, kissing his forehead and then his lips, before taking her place beside him. "I love you George, sweet dreams…"

George said his prayers and went to sleep under a magnificent full moon. When he awoke at the break of dawn something was very strange as he sat up in bed. He could not put his finger on it, so instead he put on his spectacles. And there it was, plain as day: he could see. Therefore, with clear vision he could now gaze upon the many happy people in his room that came just to greet him. A familiar voice of the kindest heart, long lost in time, rang out in his ears, his hearing returned as well, "We've been waiting all night, George." After the hugging and kissing, the whole cheerful lot of them left the room together and George turned around to watch in awe, one last time, his darling love, the exquisite Mary Elizabeth, still asleep.

Mary walked into the bedroom, hastily straightening things that most would not consider out of place, rambling nonsense about reprimanding the maid, or just cleaning the room herself, giving a sleeping George a casual remark of "George, wake up, Wendy and James are here with the baby." When he did not respond, knowing him completely hard of hearing, Mary shouted while tapping on his chest, "GEORGE, WENDY AND JAMES BROUGHT JANE FOR A VISIT. YOU'VE BEEN ASLEEP ALL MORNING GEORGE! NOW WAKE UP! THEY ARE DOWNSTAIRS AND YOU ARE STILL IN YOUR PAJAMAS."

Mary was aware he couldn't hear her, but she felt the normalcy of speaking with him comforting. She pecked his cheek, "Get up, lazy bones," before bending down to lift his bathrobe up off the floor. From there, she threw his pair of shoes in the wardrobe and chose his wears for the day ahead. To his dresser to gather the rest, she turned to see him still resting. "I've already run your bath dearest. Now open those beautiful blue eyes this very minute!" She stared at him intently, shivering from the strange emptiness disguised in a chilled breeze that suddenly blew in from the open window. Mary slowly stepped to the window, slamming it shut. From the window, she glanced back to the bed, shaking her head. "It's cold in here George. Why ever would you open the window?" she exclaimed.

Trousers, shirt, sweater, underpants, socks, and handkerchief in hand, Mary strolled alongside of his peaceful shape brushing her hand over his cheek, "George, my darling love, you are so cold. Wake up and I'll take you to the warm bath awaiting you. That will help you feel better. George, please open your eyes, its time to wake up." She continued to stroke his cheek, and each time she spoke her voice grew more and more pleading. "George please, please for me. Please wake up. Look at me George." Mary raised his hand to her cheek, it fell to the bed as she released it. "Please George, please wake up…" She raised his hand again, this time holding it to her face. "George…"

Wendy stood at the bottoms of the steps for over an hour with James holding a sleeping baby Jane in his arms before gathering the courage to walk up the stairs. James touched her hand as it hit upon the railing, "No, I'll go alone," she replied to his silent face, and slowly took each step. Wendy reached the landing and walked quicker, hearing her mother humming in her bedroom. Like she was taught as a child, she knocked before entering, only to find her mother lying alongside her father, holding him in a loving embrace to her chest.

Mary had wrapped George up in a blanket, and was stoking his head and face, "He's just cold, Wendy, when he warms up a little he'll wake up, go wait downstairs. He would be upset if you saw him in his pajamas." Wendy watched a single tear run down her mother's beautifully aged face, landing on George's head, which she quickly wiped away. "Look at me, George, I'm being silly, crying like a baby."

"Mother," Wendy had her tears, too, and they now fell as she watched Mary neatly tuck the sides of the blanket covering George in underneath him, "See, George, you will get warm and then you will wake up. You're just a little cold. I don't know why the window was left open last night. I hope you don't get sick again, I'll never forgive myself. But if you do, don't worry I'll take care of you. Now you just get warm, and wake up or you will miss the beautiful day I have planned for us."

Wendy slowly turned around quietly closing the door to her parent's room taking the stairs down to James. "He's gone to heaven, Gwendolyn," James said as she fell into his arms. Wendy cried as James kissed her forehead and handed her their newborn.

"At least he got to see her," Wendy sniffled, taking the baby into the parlor and resting with her on the sofa. "I mean at least he got to hold her, he couldn't see her, but he knew she was there, he told me."

Wendy clutched Jane to her chest and composed herself enough to speak. "Please call my brother, call my uncle, and call the priest," Wendy requested, staring adoringly the little angel from heaven God sent to her and her husband.

"I already did, your Uncle Harry is on his way, your brother cannot make it now, but he will come later to stay with your mother. As for the priest," James spoke softly looking up the stairs, "there is no other you will find closer to God here."

"James," Wendy started, catching his attention, "my mother thinks he is sleeping. She doesn't know he's…"

James interrupted his wife by raising his hand, "Yes, Gwendolyn, she does know. She knows he's gone."

James went up the stairs and found Mary just as Wendy had left her, still holding George, now only tighter crying over him. She saw him enter her room and tried as she had since she found George, "He is asleep, James. Oh George, he will be so mad when he wakes up and finds his family waiting for him. He likes things done promptly. George, now wake up. I won't be cross for you making me wait to see your angelic blue eyes open once more…" That is as far as she could go with her charade.

"Why did I not stay with him this morning? I always stay with him 'til he awakes! That way, he doesn't have to be afraid he is alone. He wakes up and I am there and I tell him I love him. I should have waited for him. DAMN! I wanted to get a head start on the day. I just wanted to run him his bath and make sure the maid tidied the parlor for company. I awoke, James, and I slipped out of bed without telling him I loved him…"

James gently eased Mary off the bed and hugged her. Looking down deeply into her tranquil eyes filled with unimaginable grief, he ended a charade of his own, "Do you really believe, Madam, that your George went to heaven thinking he was unloved?"

Mary stared at him, shocked to hear Captain Hook's voice hidden within the body of her son-in-law, the former Father Dunange. She touched his cheek and then quickly rested her head in his chest and shook it. "He was alone. He woke up and I wasn't here and he was scared. He was alone, Captain … He died alone because I wasn't there for him when he needed me," Mary said, muffling her cry as she fell to her knees.

"He was not alone, Madam, you slept beside him. He did not die this morning, he died in the night while he slept. Look at him Madam, he passed from the darkness into the light, peaceful in his dreams."

Mary rushed back to George on the bed and held him with all her might. She kissed his forehead, his lips, his hands and his lips once more. She jerked her head to James, begging as if for her life, "Please do not let God take George from me, I cannot live without him, I am wasted here without him. I love him. He is my life. He has my heart. Tell God, Captain, that he has my heart and I cannot live without him …"

James touched her head and took a seat on a chair by the bed. "God is silent, Madam, but I know what He would say in the matter. He would tell you, Mary; your heart is here with you in your family. George's heart with you inside will now reign in heaven, Madam."

Uncle Harry came and brought the undertaker, the grandson of the man who employed George as a newlywed. It was to be no easier for George's brother. Mary shoved everyone out of her room and locked herself in with George's body. Through the door she shouted, "Go away, George will be furious when he wakes up! Who told you to call the undertaker, Harry! How dare you! You will be sorry later!"

John wanted to break the door down, as did James. Harry kept his sense about him and implored Mary to at least to let him in to talk. She did, and the moment he entered, she slammed the door and relocked it, shutting her family -- including her children -- out. "I don't want to leave him, Harold. He will be alone without me. Please don't take him, what if he wakes up?" Mary said not allowing Harry anywhere near George, still resting on the bed, covered in her blanket.

"Mary, you must let him go, he will not wake up, dear heart, George is dead. You cannot stay with his body in this way. Please, it's only for now. I will take you to him after a short while, I promise. But the undertaker, you've met the gentleman, Mary, he is very honorable and he must be entrusted with him now. I will not leave him, Mary, I swear I will stay with George. I will go with John and pick out the finest coffin for him and then will go to the church to make all the arrangements. You stay here and rest." Harry spoke as he looked over Mary's shoulder to his baby brother, blessed to have passed in his sleep.

Mary conceded only because, "You promise, you will bring me to him later so that I may see him and make sure he is alright." Harry nodded.

"I want his wedding band before you take him from me." Mary went to George on the bed and attempted to remove the ring that had never, not once, been removed from his finger since she placed it there on their wedding day long ago. Mary's hand shook uncontrollably and she did not have the strength of heart, mind or hand to remove it. "I must have it." She wept as she tried yanking it from George's finger. Harry sat across from her, and in one gentle tug, eased the ring down and off, handing it to Mary. "He will be so angry with me, Harry, for taking it from him. But I must have it." Mary wept.

"You'll want to keep his spectacles and pocket watch I'm sure as well," Harry queried, watching her.

"Yes," Mary replied retaking George's hand, which Harry had tenderly laid on the bed. "I'm sorry George, but I must have these things."

Mary spent the rest of the afternoon in her room staring at the portrait that hung there of George looking up to her from the street below. She laid out all his personal effects on their bed, his wedding band, his watch, his spectacles, pictures of their children, little mementos she kept of their life together. As night fell, she sat in his wardrobe, with his wedding ring hung about her neck on a gold chain resting closest to her heart, and cried again.

John had moved his family back to England, as he considered living in America too expensive. "This helped me sleep the first few weeks when Margaret went missing," John offered, taking George's favorite sweater wrapping it around his pillow from the bed.

Wendy helped her mother from the closet and stayed with her while she bathed. After she was dressed for bed, Mary asked, "We will see your father tomorrow, Uncle Harry promised."

Wendy held her tears, to be strong for Mary; "Yes mother, and James, Baby Jane and I are sleeping in the nursery tonight, so if you need us, all you have to do is call." Mary rested back and clutched George's pillow to her chest, "He loved this sweater, and I gave it to him for Christmas twenty years ago."

These truly were the hardest days to get past for everyone involved. George was laid to rest, just as his son Michael and daughter Jane, his own parents and in-laws were in the church cemetery. However difficult it was for his children, it was worse for their mother. Without her pillar of strength to hold her up in her grief, Mary fell. Luckily, James and Harry were there to catch her, "Madam, I know the sorrow you feel consumes you, but you must stand for your children, for your husband cannot."

The first morning she awoke after the earth covered George; Mary tried to kill herself by slashing her wrists with his shaving razor. James found her in the bathroom, "Madam, remember your promises to him. If you go before you are called, you will not find yourself in the same place as your beloved. It will be truly an eternity without him, for once you are immortal, death cannot bring you salvation."

Mary would not be parted with any of his things, not his clothes nor his shoes or even his toothbrush. Harry, George's loyal brother and her closest friend, helped there as well, "Mary, George cannot be found in these things, you carry him with you in your heart."

James wholeheartedly agreed to that statement and offered another, "If you want to see him, go to your heart, if you want to speak to him, say your words out loud, he will hear them, he listens to you now in heaven, Madam."

"Mother must stay with someone," John and his wife discussed openly with James and Wendy in the parlor once Mary took her rest in bed. "After all she has been through in her life, the last thing she deserves is to be alone. I think we should sell the house and move mother in with us, that's best," John told his older sister, ignoring James' opinion of, "I think she would fare better if she were allowed to stay in her home."

Wendy watched an argument grow between her husband and her brother, loud enough to wake the baby sleeping in the cradle by them. "How dare you tell me what's best for my mother, worry after your own parents," John shouted, rising up.

"I have no parents to worry after, and I think you will only kill your mother quicker if you take her from this house and her memories here," James retorted, remaining seated.

"Well, that's what she wants! She wants to die! If you ask me, now that my father is dead, the sooner the better! It will lessen her suffering and years without him yet to come!" John shouted, causing James to stand up and grab John about his jacket collar and thrust him hard into the wall. Mrs. John Darling screamed and began to slap James demanding her husband be released.

Wendy remained silent, even as her sister-in-law, yelled for help in breaking the two men up. James had the red fire that burned in his eyes when he was angered to the boiling point. He took what was once his hook, now only a false hand crafted from wood and shoved it up into John's belly. But there was no blood, no gutting to take place, only John bent over at the waist in stifling pain having the air knocked out of him.

"What is going on downstairs?" Mary called from the top landing, taking to the steps when the room fell silent with exception of a hysterical Jane that Wendy could not calm. Mary made her way down the stairs calling out for explanation. She peered into the parlor and saw her son on the floor, his wife beside him, James staring at his false hand no longer a hook, and Wendy watching her husband in terror.

"Give me that baby," Mary demanded, practically yanking Jane from Wendy's arms, taking a seat with the baby on George's chair. "She'll wake the whole neighborhood."

Only a moment in Mary's arms, baby Jane was blissfully asleep, "Wendy, one does not quiet a baby by smothering it. You should learn that now, as you are already expectant with another. Now I will ask you all again, what is going on in my house?"

There were a barrage of voices flooding over one another giving varied explanations of the ideas, the insults and the assault, which grew louder and louder until once again Captain Hook and John were at each other's throats. Uncle Harry stopped by, and, helpful man that he was, tried to intervene, only to get swept up in the mayhem when John accidentally punched him in the jaw. Wendy slapped John's wife for slapping James and soon they rolled around on the floor pulling each other's hair and smacking.

"Mary, do something…" Harry's requested getting tripped back into the jumble trying to walk over her family who were punching each other on the floor. "When they are ready to listen I will speak." But still the chaos continued. Jane woke up again and gave voice in the shouting and Mary, the mother, only shook her head and began to rock Jane back to slumber with a quiet hum. Jane was back asleep once more, John had a blackened eye, Harry safely made it to Mary, taking a seat beside her, and Wendy along with Caroline gave up and made up, Mary finally spoke.

"SILENCE IN MY HUSBAND'S HOUSE!" Mary declared in a voice that shook paintings on the wall, standing up still holding Jane asleep in her arms. She sat back down as everyone present straightened themselves and rose to their feet, clutching to their respective partners.

"George would be so disappointed in all of you, every single last one. There is no need to fight over me or anything in this house or your father's bank accounts. All he ever wanted while he was alive was for his family to be happy. He wouldn't want to see you fighting like this. And if he were here, he would give his children a spanking for being so disagreeable, and throw everyone else out of his house for being disrespectful to him. I will ask you for the third time, for I have witnessed the argument that follows the discussion I am just at a loss as to what this is about."

John knelt by his mother, gently rubbing her arm, "Mother, I have decided that it is best that we sell this house, for it is in need of many expensive repairs, and I have offered that you should come live with me in my home with my family."

Mary watched him with a blank expression and turned to Wendy, "And your feelings on this?"

Wendy turned to James, and just as her mother taught her she let her husband speak for her. But James was quiet, only offering, "Your mother asked you a question, Gwendolyn."

Wendy swallowed the knot in her throat and replied, "I think its best you stay here in your home, but I am worried that you will be alone and lonely here, and pass on quicker than God intends." Mary glanced to James, who stood as a Captain on the deck of his own ship, and bowed to Mary with the same formality the pirate captain was so fond of.

Mary turned her attention next to Harry, who only shrugged his shoulders, giving Mary, "I just stopped by to check in on you and the children, plus I wanted to see Jane."

Mary eased back in George's chair and directed, "James, take your daughter," which he did, and placed her back in her bassinet.

Before Mary could speak, John spoke up, "It would just be so much easier if father had left a will, that way we would know what his last wishes were." John sat on the floor nearest his mother.

"I am his wife, I have been his wife obviously longer than you have been alive. No one knows your father better than I. Do you think that I am unaware of his final wishes? Do you need to see them in print in order to believe that what I know in my heart is true? I have not read his will, but I have it." Out of her pocket she pulled a long envelope, parchment with fancy script writing with George's name embossed on an unbroken seal shutting the letter, keeping it safe from prying eyes. Mary handed it to John and said, "Read it, but not aloud." It took John a few minutes to scan the pages, the further he read the more tears filled his eyes and rained down his cheeks.

"What does it say?" Wendy asked, trying to read over her brother's shoulder only to be pushed away by him. This was a private moment that John wanted to treasure for himself. When he finished, he looked to his mother, who replied, "It says that as long as I am alive, I am to stay in this house with my memories of him and our life together. He leaves it in the care of his brother Harry with James and Wendy. They are more than welcome to move in and spend their lives here together long after I am gone. He left certain finances for the house in the hands of James and Harry, dividing the responsibilities equally. The rest of his investments and savings will go to John. There are accounts set up for each of his children, son-in-law and daughter-in-law, all our grandchildren and he has even set up three accounts leaving them anonymous for any grandchildren not yet born. Everyone -- including the house staff -- will continue to receive allowances, as will the church and several others living in France."

"Living in France, who the hell lives in France that father knows and supports?" Wendy asked grabbing the will out of John's hands.

"Children of your Uncle Peter, that your father has supported out of his good graces and merciful heart since he became aware of their existence." Mary stood up and rubbed her aching neck.

"There are over nine names listed here! He couldn't have been supporting them all these years without anybody knowing," John said, stunned.

Mary straightened her robe and kissed John on his cheek, "He is not the only one who sends support or knew of Peter's children. I have been aware of them for years, and your Uncle Harry sends his own funds to help those poor souls along as well." Mary answered giving her brother-in-law a backwards glance complete with smile.

She now embraced Wendy and offered her the same kiss. Mary embraced John's wife and straightened her disheveled hair. She clutched hands with Harry, who had cried his fair share of tears for George. "He told me the day we buried Jane about your arrangement with him and Peter's children," Mary hinted, and Harry responded, "I do not even think Peter was aware of those fatherless children he left in the world, thank God for that."

Last, she stood before James, who again bowed before his queen. "And here we are at last, Captain," she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "It was your pen, but his words." James nodded looking deeply into her eyes, seeing in them the beautiful youthful lovely lady she once was so long ago. "I told him to leave his letter in a more obvious location, but he insisted your drawer of dreams, for once he was gone, he knew you would look there for him."

Mary left her family downstairs and returned to the privacy of her bedchamber alone. Without another word, for there was not much left to be said, everyone in the house, with exception of Uncle Harry, left into the night. "Are you sure mother will be alright alone?" Wendy asked, as Uncle Harry helped her into the car for the drive home. "I will stay and keep watch tonight," he replied.

Harry returned into the house and found Mary had already laid out blankets for him in the nursery. He tapped on her door just to be polite and inform her of his occupancy of the spare bed, and Mary peeked her head out of her room and answered, "Thank you, Harry. Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams, Mary," he responded, and with that, he went to bed. Neither slept a wink, crying tears for George all night alone in their rooms. In the morning as the new day began, Harry headed off to the tavern for his work, and Mary remained all alone in the house, with her memories of George and their life together there.

Mary was alone only until the morning sun burned high in the sky. Wendy stopped over with Jane to visit and to specifically ask, "Mother, is it alright if James, I and baby Jane move in here? We won't be any bother to you."

Mary smiled her first of many smiles to come, even with George gone and replied, "I would be honored to share my home with you and your family, Gwendolyn Angelina Darling Dunange."


	70. Chapter 70 Her Majesty's Secret Service

My Darling Love

Chapter 70 – Her Majesty's Secret Service

_"In search of my mother's garden, I found my own" _

_Alice Walker_

George was gone "to the best place for a man such as he," Harry commented as Mary watched her daughter, son-in-law and their child moving in with her. But it was to be a different living arrangement than they were used to. "You can have my bedroom, Wendy, your Jane can have my Jane's old room and I will take the nursery." Wendy and James would have sworn Mary would want to stay in her own room, but she was rather insistent. "That is what your father wanted."

So without question and happily sacrificial, Mary moved into the nursery, and purchased all new things for her now-widowed life. The furniture that she had shared with George she bestowed graciously to Wendy, who simply adored anything antique, as well as having belonged to her mother. The only thing Mary would not be parted with was her painting of George. It hung above her new bed in her new room.

The only further question came from James, who asked after her brother-in-law, Harry, "Where will he live? It's unfair that he should live alone. After all, Madam, we are his only family."

Mary heard him as she helped with supper, but did not respond until they were alone in the dining room setting the table. "I told Harry he is more than welcome here whenever he likes. He doesn't have to be alone, he chooses to be." James accepted her answer; trusting her the same as George had. Therefore, not another word was said.

Now, James and Wendy were no way as wealthy as Mr. and Mrs. George Darling, and after dividing up all the money George bequeathed to his entire family, James (now titled "king of the castle") cut expenses wherever possible. He liked George's ideas best, so he maintained them. He released the cook, maids and housekeeper, for Wendy should learn how to feed her family and make a home by her own talents. Wendy gave up her profession as art teacher for a new one, homemaker. James set up his savings accounts for "rainy days" and "unforeseeable expenses," all with the help of Uncle Harry. With the new house rules now established, Wendy and James lived their early marriage just like her parents before her.

There were lovers' spats and quarrels, for James expected the same things from his wife and mother of his children that George did. At home in their modest flat, Mary had cleaned and cooked meals to help out, as Wendy was rather busy teaching, not to mention, quite swollen with child. But in George's home, Mary turned these duties over to her daughter, who was married with a child and another on the way. Mary now spent her time alone in her room, leaving her daughter to care for the home. Therefore, Mrs. James Dunange constantly heard, "You made no supper? I worked a hard day today, Gwendolyn, I expected dinner hot on the table when I arrived." Or, "Gwendolyn, the house is filthy, do you not know how to clean?"

No one -- with the exception of Mary -- had clean clothes, for Wendy did nothing all day but carry Jane around in an imaginary world. "Do you want me to help? I understand it is hard with a baby and another on the way, but still Wendy…" Mary asked when there was not even a tea bag to be found in the cupboards. "No, mother, I am the Queen of the house and soon enough James will get me a maid and cook." Stubborn and foolish, Wendy just danced away to her bedroom.

It all came to a crashing halt when Wendy delivered twin sons who, at only a few weeks old, developed a horrible diaper rash. Mary carried the twins across town to a physician for treatment on Harry's advice, for Wendy could not be bothered.

"It's simply too difficult to look after two babies and Jane! We must hire a nanny! And like I have been telling you all along, James, I need a cook and a maid. As far as laundry, James, just hire a launderer. I am your wife, James, not a servant!" Wendy demanded to her husband that evening, after he arrived home from yet another long, hard day at work without supper on neither the table nor any food found in the cupboards with the newborns in the bassinet crying hysterically.

Wendy could not soothe them, nor could James. The hours he'd worked away from the house to keep her in the manner she had grown accustomed to, being the daughter of a banker, kept him away from his children as well. An argument ensued of the highest, loudest quality that ended when James, enraged by his selfish self-centered wife, slapped her hard in the mouth after she called him, "the heartless devil."

Wendy fell over only to get up, still stubborn and willful and very foolish, informing him, "I want a divorce, James! GO BACK TO NEVERLAND AND ROT!" She stormed out of the room and out of the house leaving him alone with three babies crying for comfort and love, all with soiled diapers.

James loved his Wendy, and he loved his children, but this was not something he bargained for. He threw open the window in his bedroom and screamed out into the night sky, "As I told you before, dearest Lord, THIS IS NO FAIR TRADE!" shaking his fists to the heavens. At that moment he was so tempted to take that step, the step out the window into the night sky ensuring his return to the good ship Jolly Roger. But alas, he remembered, he got just what he'd asked for, and now he was real. There was no Neverland to return to, well, at least not for him. And God himself had told James, it was much more difficult to be alive on earth than in Heaven. "Different rules, different battlefields," James whispered to himself as he made his best attempt to help his children covered in their own filth.

Mary was not home to hear the harsh words of raised voices. She arrived sometime later, dragging Wendy by her arm into the house. "Sit," Mary told her married daughter as she made her way up the stairs to where James had undressed all three children and was trying to his best to clean them with a damp washcloth and only one functioning hand. The babies moved about kicking and wiggling, not understanding his gentle request of, "Please stay still so I can clean you up, my precious little ones."

Mary sighed, seeing her daughter and son-in-law seemed already "in for it," as she muttered walking quickly to the washroom to run a bath. "Go downstairs and sit with Wendy. I will do this," she told James, and he went.

James and Wendy sat across from one another, she looking up at the ceiling with her arms crossed, he sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring at her. He asked about where she had gone, truly concerned, and she retorted, "I went to my brother's home and told him what you did, and you are no longer welcome there!"

Mary was upstairs with three little angels, giving them each a bath in a tub with relaxingly warm water filled with perfumed soap bubbles. She dressed each of her grandchildren in a clean diaper, the last to be found in the house, and clean pajamas that she herself washed early in the day. She hummed them to sleep in the crib, and then slowly proceeded to the parlor to Wendy and James.

Mary took a seat in the middle and said nothing. They sat that way for quite some time before Wendy lost her temper once again, and informed her mother of her intentions. "Mother, like I was trying to tell you at John's, I am going to divorce James." Plain and simple. James lowered his head, a King defeated, still a newlywed.

Mary shook her head and rubbed her face, turning her attention to James. "James, go upstairs, pack yourself a bag and leave this house."

James left up the stairs without a word, did as the Queen instructed him and vacated the Darling house into the night. Wendy watched him go and gave a "good," complete with a smirk of victory. Now it was Wendy's turn, and she did not see it coming for she was still gloating.

"Your father and I have only made this mistake in marriage: we should have given our blessing to your Peter when he asked it of us. He would have been the better choice of husband to you. There would be no modest home of meager income for you to be bothered with, and there would be no children to keep you from your fantasies and games. You would rest in the lap of luxury and be out and about in the world where you think you belong. And there would be no man cast from his home, old, alone and unloved without even his children for company."

Mary rose from her chair and slowly took to the stairs. Wendy faltered in her celebration when her mother called down to her, "I will expect you to pack your bags as well and be out of the house tomorrow. You can sleep in my room tonight, it will be easier for your imaginary friend to come and retrieve you."

Wendy jumped up and raced to the landing to catch her mother rounding about to her daughter's room. "Mother, don't be silly Peter Pan is dead."

"I would not be to sure about that, Wendy. I will look after James' children, that way I can be sure of their protection and that their father will see them, seems he prefers real life to the imaginary world you spend your days in."

Wendy went up the stairs to her room just as fast as she made it to the landing. "Whatever do you mean mother? I don't want to leave here."

Mary was unwavering, even after Wendy lifted one of her sons up out of the crib and cradled him lovingly in her arms. "You've always cared more about yourself, Gwendolyn, than you have cared about others that love you. Tonight proves it beyond any shadow of a doubt in my mind. Yes, I'm sure Lucifer is sending Pan at this very moment to claim his prize. Best leave the window open for him." Mary snatched the baby from its mother, and it did not cry in protest, only grinned contentedly, feeling the mother still present in Mary.

Mary took Wendy by the arm and shoved her from the room latching the door behind her. "Sweet dreams, Wendy, darling," Mary scoffed, just like Captain Hook would have from behind her locked door.

Wendy went to bed but could not sleep, not like she wanted to. In fact, she performed the actions that had been played out several times before in that particular room, blockading the window after locking it and closing the shades. She moved two dressers, her mother's rocking chair, table and chairs, a side drawer, an immense wardrobe with one delicate vase above the whole jumble to secure that if a person were to enter the room, at least through the window, Wendy would know. She tossed and turned in bed, kept awake by the slightest noise in the house. She heard the house settle, the heater kick on and off, the back gate rattle in the wind and the babies up with a wail only a second before Mary calmed them back to slumber.

Wendy closed her eyes, painful to do, for when she did she saw Captain Hook impaled through his back repeatedly with a gold dagger by a boy who refused to grow up. His love for her, and her alone made him do it, to protect her, to save her and now he was gone away from her. Wendy was convinced, as was God, that given a second chance, Captain Hook would have just stood there and mocked her as she lay dying from a stab wound to the heart. Although, in truth, God knew her James would never do that, for he loved Wendy and that reason alone made the once dreaded pirate real in the first place. And now her James was gone away in the night, away forever and Wendy was just lying in bed, in the lap of luxury.

It was cold outside, and so wherever James was, Wendy knew he was freezing. She thought perhaps he went to the church mission or Uncle Harry's. But still, she knew he was cold. Therefore, she pulled the blanket off of the bed and continued to lie. But James was not lying down; he was probably scrunched up in an alley freezing. Therefore, Wendy scrunched herself up in a corner of her room without a blanket. She couldn't open the window; for she was terrified, having no pirate captain to protect her, Pan was eagerly awaiting entrance. She turned off the heater in her room and waited. But still, it was not the same as being outside, now it was raining. So Wendy got up defeated, just like her husband, and went to the kitchen. With nothing else to do to keep her hands busy she did the laundry.

Mary awoke in the morning and carried Jane down, placing her in the wooden playpen James had crafted in the parlor. She climbed the stairs and gathered the two newborns and brought them down as well. Jane was no longer in the playpen. Mary raced into the kitchen to find a fine mess. "There is madness in my method, Mother, but I am trying…" Wendy shouted over her work. She was in the process of cleaning everything in the kitchen, including shining her mother's silverware all at the same time. There were lines of drying laundry hung about everywhere and pots with something cooking on all four burners of the stove. Jane sat in her highchair, the same her father had made for her, and giggled as Wendy literally dropped what she was doing to feed her eldest child.

Mary watched as Wendy threw open her blouse in plain sight and let both her sons attach on, each to its own breast for breakfast. "Now do you want me to help, Wendy?" Mary asked lowering the fires under the food her daughter was cooking.

"Yes mother, help me and teach me." Mary was waiting for the ending only to find there wasn't one, so she inquired further, "Teach you what, Wendy?"

"Everything, mother... Please" Wendy replied breathlessly, taking a seat at the table to rest, but only for moment, with her twins nestled snuggly into her bosom.

Harry dropped by like he did each morning for breakfast, and told Wendy her husband took his old room in the flat. "He went to work this morning, and yes, Mary, he ate a hearty breakfast at the tavern first." Harry couldn't find a place to sit in the kitchen so he grabbed a makeshift muffin Wendy made, hard as a rock, and went off to work himself.

Wendy twirled about in the disorder and fell over with her mother there to catch her and guide her home. "Wendy, first things first. We will clean up this mess together and start over."

They did just that, and Mary taught Wendy everything she knew about being a mother and wife. All the questions Wendy always had about her mother and what she did all day while the children played were answered that day, "You must make a schedule and keep to it." First thing was first where Wendy's mother was concerned, "You awake before everyone else in the house, dress yourself and go to the kitchen and make your family breakfast, never letting your eyes leave the clock. Everyone you care for has a schedule, and it is your job to see that it, as well as your own, is kept. You must make sure everyone gets up, gets dressed, eats and safely gets off to where they need to go."

They took each step together, one at a time, and by nightfall of that first day, Wendy gained several very important titles, "**_Never_** think of yourself, Wendy, as just your husband's maid, launderer, nanny and whore. You are a wife, a mother, a friend, a lover, a confidante, and everything else in between, because, Wendy, you are a woman who loves."

By the time night fell and the clock tolled six, Wendy also realized why her mother abandoned the children to spend a few stolen minutes with her father. Working all day as the minutes turned to hours, doing what it was housewives do to care for their family, checking on her babies while making a happy home for them, Wendy had "the need" to see James, as Mary put it. "Oh yes Wendy, did you feel it tug on you all day, getting worse as the hour of his arrival from work neared?" Wendy nodded anxiously. "Yes, Wendy, and when he is not in the door hanging his hat at half past six, it will be unbearable. It will send you to the front stoop looking down the block for him, and out into the streets searching for him. Your soul will flee your body to find him…"

James did not come home at half past six, and just as Mary had warned, Wendy spent an hour outside on the front stoop waiting. "He will not come home tonight, Wendy. But fret not, for he loves you, and will come home when he is called."

Mary's final instruction came after the three children were fed, bathed and in bed. "Now, it is time for you to be the bedtime fairy." Mary walked with Wendy throughout the house, giving it the once over, noting all that was to be done the next day. With Wendy's schedule completed, and her new one for the next day assembled, she too went to bed leaving Mary awake.

Mary called a cab that came and fetched her, dropping her by Harry's tavern. Inside, James sat at the bar holding his head in his hand. A cigar was lit in the ashtray and a bottle of rum rested beside that. Harry sat at a card table, playing cards with a young lady, young enough to be his granddaughter, taking a spot happily on his lap. He nodded to Mary as she entered and she returned a halfhearted smile to him as she strolled up behind James, placing her hand on his back. "Come home," was all Mary said and James accompanied her, unquestioning.

The house was quiet and clean. There was a plate of supper Wendy made for him herself waiting in the icebox, and Mary, playing the part of wife, heated it for him and he ate. Mary sat across from him and folded napkins and towels, the last the maid had washed, placing them neatly in a basket. "You did this?" James asked with his mouth full.

"No, Wendy did it. Our family's former maid, housekeeper, and chef did help her and I along, but, just for today. We felt the best start for Wendy and your family should be a fresh one. The cupboards and icebox are full; the washroom is scrubbed as well as every other room in the house including that attic. All your clothes are clean and hanging in your wardrobe. There is not one thing out of place in this house. There is fresh bedding and blankets on the bed, and even the sofa cushions are fluffed. The maid spent the entire day with Wendy and showed her the correct way to clean house. What she did not teach her, I did. The chef went to the market and then guided Wendy through making her first supper. The Housekeep and I went to the department store and I purchased you new shoes, handkerchiefs, socks, pajamas, a dress suit, warm work clothes, bathrobe and slippers. We also purchased for the children things babies that age need. I am giving you and my daughter the funds for all the expenses, and I do not want it repaid. It is a wise investment I am making in my family. I am always here for you both, and as I told Wendy today, I will always lend a hand to you, all you have to do is ask. Now, Wendy still has a lot to learn, so I ask you to be patient with her. She is trying her best. She understands now, James. Tomorrow I will educate my daughter in the fine art of planning meals and making her grocery list…"

James sat back in his chair with a frown and exhaled deeply shaking his head. "However did you convince her, Madam?"

"I gave her two choices, Captain. I told her she could either feed you to the lion or let you live with the maiden. She chose the maiden, Captain." Mary smiled to him and rose gathering his plate, which he had cleaned. She touched his tired face that quickly turned toward her, embracing her around the waist. "Lucky for Gwendolyn, James, she gets to be the maiden." She pulled away, but not before he kissed her hand.

God in heaven and George sitting beside him resting on a cloud smiled down. "Can I go to her now?" George asked and God shook his head. **_"Not yet George, but soon."_**

And so it was, Wendy, with a lot of practice and hard work, became a proficient homemaker. She got up before everyone else in the house and did her chores with a smile that ran ear to ear. She played with her babies, showering them with kisses and hugs, and soon enough, she need only touch her finger to their cheek when they cried to give them comfort. She hummed while she worked, cooked, cleaned and made very merry all day long in her new reality.

Unlike her mother, who never worried after money, Wendy handled all the house accounts. Just like her father taught her, she had accounts for everything and never overspent on the unnecessary. Her favorite ledger to look in on was, "Our night out," as she titled it. Once a week, preferably on a Saturday, James and Wendy went out for a date together alone, just the two of them. Mary loved that time as well; for then and only then did she get to look after the babies.

And each night as the bell tolled six, Wendy's eyes went to the clock, and each second that past until James came in the front door was an eternity. But he came home on time, and unlike George who made his own way to the dinner table, Wendy led James. Wendy's time for him and him alone began the moment his hat reached the hat rack. She hugged him tightly, and kissed his lips before she took his hand, and guided him to his seat at the head of the table. She served him his supper first, and instructed their children, still babies in the playpen, "Listen children, your father is going to tell us about his day. Please James, tell us, and don't leave out one detail."


	71. Chapter 71 His Brother's Keeper

My Darling Love

Chapter 71 – His Brother's Keeper

_"A widow is a fascinating being with the flavor of maturity, the spice of experience, the piquancy of novelty, the tang of practiced coquetry, and the halo of one man's approval."_

_-Helen Rowland_

There are two types of widows found in London. Those who walk about with sad expression dressed in head-to-toe black, who never do anything but pine for their lost love and nothing else. Then there are those who mourn privately but go on. Grandma Josephine dressed in head-to-toe black, and Mary went on. She was always considered very popular in the community, like her father before her, so she never was at a loss for an invitation, or admirers that had envied George over the years. Some went so far as to call on the newly widowed Mrs. Darling at her husband's funeral. But Mary was not ready to be courted. Well, not then at least.

She promised George she would love, and go on, and more importantly, be happy even with him gone. Every day, no matter what, she visited him in the cemetery, leaving pink roses on his grave. She would stroll home after doing her errands and spend hours chatting with his painting in her room.

It was a one-sided conversation that went something like this, "James saved enough to open his own business. Oh George, you would be so proud of him. And Wendy as well, quite the little happy homemaker now that she's gotten the hang of it. I'd never admit it to her, George, but she puts me to shame. There is not one speck of dust throughout the entire house, and James is by far the best-dressed carpenter in all of England. She actually presses his work clothes, and is thrilled when he comes home filthy with a rip in his pants. She washes them and mends them and has them hanging back in the closet before he's done with the paper. And the food she cooks, my goodness, the girl can make meals that last a week on one chicken. And don't even get me started on the children; they are the most well behaved bunch. Wendy wants more, but James told her three is enough. I have to agree, she will be forty in April, but still she cries for another, so I'm sure James will put her in that way again soon enough, God bless him."

George sat on his cloud with his chest pushed out, proud of his family, only losing his happy smile when Mary said, "I'm alright, just lonely, George. You know, I try to not get in the way with Wendy and James and their children, like my father. I eat over with John and Caroline on Friday, the two oldest boys are both growing eager to begin courting lovely ladies, and soon his two sons with Margaret will be heading that way as well. Caroline's sister is also a widow who moved herself and her children in with John's family. Sometimes I feel like I'm intruding, twelve people at a dinner table are a lot, and I make thirteen, such an unlucky number. Sometimes I feel like I don't fit in anywhere. I know you think me silly, and I'm sure -- or at least I hope it will never happen -- but just the same, sometimes I think I am going die old, alone and unloved without you here."

George in heaven tried to answer his wife, but to no avail, she couldn't hear him. So Mary went on, "My father didn't die that way I know…" George agreed, and then again concurred, "We needed him more than our children need me.

"Our children are so happy, George, I'm actually jealous…"

Mary was involved in woman's clubs and the church. She crocheted and did needlepoint, babysat the children, read books, and helped Wendy when she would accept it, for most times she informed her mother, "I can do it myself, Mother, but thank you for offering." Wendy cleaned her mother's room, like Mary cleaned her father's, so with no place to be and nothing to do, she volunteered to help Harold at his flat.

A bachelor his whole life, Harry never cleaned. Mary scrubbed it from top to bottom weekly and filled his icebox and cupboards. She shopped and did his laundry and made his flat into a home, not just a place to sleep. She also made an investment where her brother-in-law was concerned, placing rugs on his cold hard wood floors and crocheting him a warm afghan for his bed. Mary found comfort spending time with Harold, he reminded her immensely of George, more so as he got older as well. The only difference Mary found between the two was in his eyes; his were always without spectacles and the color hazel.

Mary stayed over at his flat long enough during the day to cook him supper and eat her dinners with him. Harry was always happy to come home and find her there. But there were times when he came home with company, a young lady, where his outward appreciation of her attention was not so obvious, causing unspoken difficulties between them.

It was a different woman each time, usually annoyed to find an older woman, visibly competition for Harry's wealth and circumstances, setting out the dinner dishes. They often mumbled, "Your maid, Harry?"

On those occasions, Harry was rather anxious for Mary to leave, as well for his own personal reasons, "I want some private time with my lady friend, you know, in that way," Harry would whisper as he ushered Mary out with a peck on the cheek, "Thank you though, Mary." She left, and after a few weeks of intruding on his "private time," she stopped coming by. Missing Mary tremendously, he did ask James about her, who replied, "She does not want to keep you from your own life, Sir. If she is mistaken, perhaps you should correct her."

Mary keeping Harry from his life could not be farther from the truth. Harry considered Mary a major part of his life, and her shunning of his company he had mistaken as her disapproval of his lifestyle and loose women. And so, Harry said nothing.

Thus, for the first time since George was buried, Mary came to the dinner table at her daughter's home, now the Dunange Residence, dressed in head-to-toe black. She frowned, an expression unbecoming of her classic beauty, desperately wanting Saint Peter to send George to retrieve her. It was a painful change for James and Wendy to witness, so as they retired, they decided they preferred a widow who went on as opposed to a widow that didn't. "What do you suggest?" Wendy asked.

It was a simple plan to concoct, especially when James replied, "If she doesn't want to go on, Gwendolyn, we will force her to."

"How are we going to do that?" Wendy pressed, and James, the king of his castle -- not to mention the captain of his ship -- replied rather arrogantly, "We will find your mother a workable profession to keep her mind from heaven."

Mary was an older woman, but not an old woman. Just the same, there was no work for her in her son-in-law's carpenter shop. Her son John worked at a bank, and there was no job to be found there either. The only person they knew who had a position open for an older woman with years of experience running a house was Harry. He was not the least bit happy to take her on his staff. "Mary should never be anyone's maid…" He remarked at the notion that she was to tidy the tavern and wash out the glasses. This didn't matter, for it was better than letting her spend her days conversing with a portrait of her deceased husband. "I said speak with him, Madam, when you want to talk, not spend every waking minute hidden away in your room, holding your George's ear and his attention, preventing him from enjoying his rewards in heaven," James argued.

For Uncle Harry, James told him, "You can help us keep an eye on her, Sir." Harry relented, and Mary started her work, earning a respectable wage for a woman of her experience.

It did not have the effect on her mother that Wendy had hoped, at least not in the beginning. Mary spent her days playing with the children, still dressed in black, and went to the tavern as the supper crowd arrived. She returned home later in the evening, promptly at eleven and went to bed. Her smile had not yet returned, and even James was about to lose hope, but not first without a fight. So one night, instead of bathing the children and putting them to bed, as he did every night, after dinner, he went to the tavern.

Mary worked behind the bar, serving drinks and keeping it tidy while the place rocked on its foundation with loud music, dancing and merry making. Uncle Harry sat at his normal spot, with his normal lady friend of loose morals, obvious to James, on his lap. He hid in the shadows and watched as Mary glanced at Harry every so often, only to lower her head, her frown now branded on her face.

James casually pushed his way to the bar, past the many gentleman and ladies dancing and carrying on everywhere, and pulled up a stool. "Rum, Madam!" He slammed his wooden hand down, in a demanding tone. Those around him moved away, for even as a real man, his demeanor of former pirate captain was startling. Mary fetched him his own bottle and leaned over the bar in front of him. James took a shot from the bottle, and then passed it to his mother-in-law, who politely declined. "What are you doing here? George never went to the tavern after work."

"Well, Madam, I am not George, and neither is he," James declared, giving a backwards glare to Harry, who had just won another hand of poker. The girl on his lap was rather drunk and she landed on the floor as he rose to cross the pub and extend his hand to James. Before Harry reached them, James grabbed Mary's arm and whispered, "Remember the Bible, Madam? Cain and Abel? Am I my brother's keeper? In this case, what do you think, Madam?" Mary did not answer, only yanked her arm away, and walked away from the both of them.

"What are you doing out tonight, James? Thought you'd be home with your family." Harry began, quite shocked to see James out so late in the evening.

James shook his head and took another swig from the rum bottle. Nay say swig, he actually chugged the entire bottle down in one gulp. "NAH! I think you'll be seeing a lot of me from now on! I prefer it here…" James turned round on the stool and stood up, leering openly at a lovely lady who sauntered by and winked, "Well hello…" James smiled amorously to her and soon it was he who was sitting at the poker table with that girl on his lap.

James stayed until the pub closed and was quite inebriated when he left. Mary had to claw the woman off his lap, and then was forced to drag him home and up to bed. He landed next to his wife, reeking of rum, tobacco and pungent perfume causing Wendy to roll over and whisper, "It will never work, James." He smiled to her, back to his normal, sober self, "Oh ye of little faith."

For a week, James went to the pub and got "drunk." But not really, for you see, James had an experienced stomach with quite a capacity for liquor, and he had always able to drink any man under the table. He would flirt with the young ladies and play poker with his mother-in-law and Uncle Harry watching from behind the bar. When they had enough, which they had, they forbade him from coming back, "You are a married man with a wife and children to care for. You should be home with your family!" Mary shouted, as she again had to shove a whore off his lap.

Harry shouted as well, once back inside the old Darling house, "You should be thankful that God thinks enough of you to bless you with a family, James, and has given you a second chance for happiness. He doesn't do that for everyone you know."

James leaned over both Harry and Mary, each supporting one of his arms that he lovingly wrapped about the other. "Yes, to be a married man … home with my family … not out every night in the pub … with prostitutes for company …" he slurred, doing his best acting. "I should be honored God has given me a second chance at happiness and love … He thinks highly of me … I must have earned it in His eyes … although I think He does do that for everyone." He stumbled and fell, taking Harry and Mary with him. He gave the impression of being a man unconscious, leaving Mary and Harry to lift him and set him down on the floor of the parlor.

Mary covered James with a blanket and left him to his slumber. Harry was furious, "What does Wendy say about this?" Mary could only shrug her shoulders, for she had not said a word to her daughter of James' behavior. "You go to bed, Mary, I will stay here and sleep on the couch and watch over this drunkard so he doesn't create a ruckus in the house." Mary listened to her husband's brother, and he sat on his favorite chair in the parlor and lit his pipe, glaring down and shaking his head at James.

Grandpa Joe, Grandma Elizabeth, Millicent, Mr. Davis, Margaret, Penny, Michael and even Nana the dog with George in the middle sat side-by-side on a cloud in heaven and gazed down. As James peeked through his eyes, they all gathered around George and hugged him tightly to soften the blow, which was surely to be a mighty one.

James softly spoke, raising his head only slightly to check if the coast was clear. "Is Mary upstairs?"

It caught Harry quite by surprise to see him sobered up so quickly and he answered, "Yes, she is."

Before James could speak, Harry began, "I am absolutely furious with you James. Wendy deserves better than a man that drinks and gambles and keeps company with cheap women who only care about the cash in your pocket. You should be thankful that God thinks you are an honorable man who deserves a family to love him. I wish I were so lucky to have a wife and children of my own. Take my life as a lesson, James, I was a doctor and lost everything to drink. Had it not been for Grandpa Joe, George and Mary, I would have died long ago. But you see, man, I have things apparently still left to do on this earth. Mary told me that every day that passes comes another lesson from God and I'm still learning and being punished for my sins."

Harry kept shaking his head and now utilized his finger, pointing it in James' face, "Take my advice and learn the simple lessons quickly, like not drinking and gambling and taking in loose women. I don't drink anymore, and it has made all the difference. I only gamble away my pocket change, you understand, James, not my hard earned cash from the tavern, pocket change. And as far as whores …" Harry shamefully lowered his head as well as his finger. He only raised his face slightly and in a more mild tone spoke, "Well, I'm all alone. I don't have anyone who loves me…"

The sound of his annoyance instantly returned and he sat back in the chair and declared, "But if I did, I would treat her like a queen! Hell, if I were lucky enough to be a married man, I would never be at the pub or with prostitutes. I would home with my wife, loving her! Breaks my heart to see Mary so sad at your behavior. There was a time when my brother was alive I was sure Mary did not even know how to frown. And now that smile has been erased. I wish I knew how to give it back to her."

Now James said, "Lesson learned then, Sir."

James rose from the floor and stared about the room. "You're right I am a husband and father and have been blessed. Why should I go to the pub every night and drink and gamble and take in loose women when I have a fine woman upstairs resting in bed waiting for me. I think you're right. God gave me a second chance. I will take it and you, my good man, should do the same. Thank you sir." James took Harry's hand and shook it. James stared at Harry, and Harry to him. James leaned in and spoke again, this time in a whisper. "God forgave you your sins long ago, Harold. You are not being punished; he is just waiting for you to learn your lesson. Upstairs there is a Queen without her king waiting to keep company with a king who has no queen. Breaks my heart to see you think yourself unworthy of her." Without another word James took to the stairs and into his room.

James had entered his room and shut the door as Mary was leaving hers heading to the washroom. Worried that James may have unthinkingly attacked Harry in his drunken state, Mary returned quickly to the parlor. Harry was just leaving as Mary met him at the door to inquire after his health. She caught him by the sleeve, checking him from head to toe for damage, "Did he hurt you or strike you, Harry? Some men can be violent when drunk," she stated frankly. Harry said nothing only stared at his sister-in-law quite soberly.

Mary was beautiful, and it was no exaggeration to say so. She was a woman of sixty, but as it had been her entire married life, she always looked a decade younger than what she really was. Harold was blessed the same way. He was older than his baby brother by months, but he always looked younger, especially after he stopped drinking. Thus, George and Harry oddly enough could have been twins, with the exception of health. Harry had never been sick a day in his life, had perfect vision as well as hearing. There was also the ever-important variation in the hue of their eyes. All the sons of Frederick Darling had blue eyes, except Harry, which Mary always thought peculiar. For each three out of the four sons of the senior Mr. Darling were bad men who drank, gambled, and whored their lives away, George the fourth being the exception. Therefore her reasoning was George should be the one with hazel eyes as he was different in every other way possible.

But alas, out of the half-light of night in that exact moment in time, at least in Mary's eyes, Harry was her George. And she wished it so loudly in her heart she spoke it to him. She lovingly touched his face and whispered, "George…"

Harry gently eased her hand away from his face and replied as kindly as he could, "I am not my brother's keeper, Mary. George and I could never be one in the same." Harry slowly moved away and through the door into the night. Mary watched him leave and retired to her room, crying herself to sleep.

Harry returned to the tavern and had one stiff drink, to dull the pain he always held in his heart. He gambled his pocket change away at poker and picked the loveliest young lady to take home with him, paying her the worth of her lay in shillings before dismissing her from his bed. His father had told him long ago, "You pay them to lay down Harry, but after you screw them, send on their way. You'll never get attached to a woman if you don't sleep in the same bed."

God and everyone gathered about George still watched on their cloud. Everyone else had seen plenty, so they drifted away to their own rewards until just George and Grandpa Joe remained. "Should I go to her now?" George asked, smiling to his father-in-law, who peeked down, a little envious of the living, seeing Harry's lady friend getting dressed. "No George, not yet but soon," he responded to George's dismally puckered brow**_. "Soon will come, George, but it is still years away. You must be patient."_**

The next day was Sunday, and for James, Wendy, their children, and Mary, it meant church. The whole family loaded into their motorcar and drove to the church, taking their usual seats in the row nearest the front. Mary always told Harry he should attend mass, but for his believed sin of murder committed against an innocent child he operated on while drunk, he declined. He and Mary shared many conversations throughout their years and this was a constant topic brought up. But try as she might, Mary could never convince Harry to have the courage to face God, let alone the holy altar. Therefore, he never went to church, except for weddings, christenings and funerals.

So it can be imagined, Mary's surprise when Harry slipped in a few rows behind his family and sat through a whole Sunday service. Mary saw him before mass began as she glanced backwards, giving her traditional head bob and pleasant smile to Biggins Fisher, Esquire, and his wife as they proudly strolled past. James and Wendy saw Uncle Harry as well, and motioned for him to come and sit with them, but he only shook his head. With mass completed and the blessing given, they all met up outside and inquired after the day's upcoming events.

Wendy and James were taking their three infants to a day of sight seeing in their strollers, simply to get out and enjoy the lovely summer day it was. Harry had plans with a few of his poker buddies in the early afternoon to ready themselves for a tournament at the tavern later in the evening. Wendy thought it strange they needed to prepare to play cards until James enlightened her of her uncle's polite way of saying, "He's going to a whore house, Gwendolyn."

"On a Sunday, and you just went to church?" Wendy exclaimed rather loudly, surprised to hear even on the Lord's Day of rest her uncle still delighted in his drinking, gambling and whoring. Harry was shocked at her disproving expression and he unknowingly corrected James' mistake with, "We always go out to lunch and get a good meal before the match. Most men I play with drink a lot when they lose, and no man should ever drink on an empty stomach. And of course we discuss our strategies as well."

That eased Wendy's mind considerably. "You no longer drink, Uncle Harry?"

Harry pompously shook his head, "Absolutely not, only on special occasions do I imbibe in it and I never drink enough to get drunk!"

No one invited Mary along, so she went home alone to her empty house. She sat in her room and stared at George in the painting. Strange it was to her now, in the clear light of day, that Harry could never be the same as George, and she thought herself silly for only the night before getting the two brothers confused. George had lived one life and Harry another, and Mary a third. With that settled and a new feeling of freedom that appeared out of nowhere, Mary took off her black dress, and put on a blue one. She fixed her hair neatly and applied a light touch of rouge to her cheeks and ventured off into the sunshine. "I promised you, George, I will do my best to be happy, and I meant it," she called out as she slammed the door behind her and headed to the park.

Alone that afternoon, Mary held on to her happiness and she wore a smile that had not been seen since her father released her from her bedroom after she returned from running away with George forty years prior. The bliss she felt from just being alive and on earth made her face light, attracting the attention of a gentleman many years younger than herself, who turned to catch a look at her. And as always, Mary was not without her admirers. It was George's life inside of her that made her happy that day year's prior and it was still George's life inside of her now that kept her in good spirits. And so, something magical happened that Sunday, and Mary the widow who wanted to go on returned.

There were things that changed after George had died, like her bedroom, and now there were more things that were to be transformed. If her bedroom was the first, now came time for a second, and so, Mary went to the beauty parlor and cut her hair. It was always long and held up in a bun. Now she preferred it shorter to the nape of her neck styled in lovely smooth curls flowing freely. It stole years from her face wearing it down only adding to her loveliness. Gentlemen preferred blondes, and Mary had the white hair that came with age so she fit the bill without the need of bleach.

She also went shopping and bought a closet full of new clothes, all in a flattering new style to her slim frame, hemmed well above her ankles. She purchased hats, shoes, purses and accessories to match each one of her ensembles and completed her makeover by giving away all her old garments. There were clothes she would not discard -- the nightgowns she wore on both her wedding nights to George nor her mother's wedding dress, now nearly unrecognizable from time. She also kept the dress she wore to John's wedding and Wendy's as well. The dress she wore to George's funeral, and all others in the shade of black, purchased specifically to mourn in saw the flames of the fireplace. "For you, my darling love," Mary whispered as she watched them disintegrate into ashes.

When Wendy arrived home and saw her mother's new hair and dress, she nearly fainted. James bowed at the waist and kissed her hand, "A rose of the sea you are, Madam," he whispered, with Wendy out of earshot. John thought his mother insane with her new appearance and his wife agreed. Harry liked the new look and complimented her choice by simply stating, "You always dressed like a proper lady, Mary."

With her modern outward transformation came an inward one as well. Mary always had friends who wanted to have her over for lunch or for tea, so Mary went. Just as her children had done to her, she now did to them, disappearing without explanation, off on her own adventures. The only place Wendy and James were sure they would see Mary was at Sunday mass or sleeping peacefully in her bed at night. No one asked where she was off to in the morning, and no one asked what time to expect her back. She still kept her position at Harry's tavern, and when James did venture out to check on her he saw her laughing and making merry, just like everyone else, always the proper lady of polite society.

And so the story goes, Mary was happy and content, but still she felt an inner longing that something was still amiss. "A lover, Madam," James spoke up from behind her as she cried by her bedroom window loud enough to wake him. Mary scoffed him off, "I would never take another lover. George would not allow it."

"Madam, George has not the power to allow or disallow anything. You are the one with free will, not him. And may I remind you, Madam, the vows you took stated, 'until parted by death.' Death has parted you and your George, Madam, your life belongs to only you now, and no other." James left her in her bedroom alone that night and she wept on.


	72. Chapter 72 This Kiss

My Darling Love

Chapter 72 – This Kiss

_"Never a lip is curved in pain that can't be kissed into a smile again._

_-Brete Hart_

It was well after midnight and Mary could not fall asleep. She returned to the tavern (rather unladylike of her) and met Harry as he was locking up. He was surprised to see her, and it showed on his lady friend's face, who stood with her arm wrapped around his when she blurted, "Blimey, a little old to be walking the streets, this one is."

Mary did not respond, for there was nothing to say, so she turned back home, old, alone and unloved. Or so she thought. Harry dismissed the girl, who was more interested in his wallet than his heart, and followed behind Mary to ensure that she reached the front door safely. Once there, she turned and thanked him with an embrace.

"Is everything all right, Mary? I mean, with the children and the grandchildren?" Mary nodded her head, still holding tightly to him. Harry nudged her with his head and she gazed upon his hazel eyes. "I just miss being a wife, I suppose. I'm very lonely without George."

Always it was George in her heart, and Harry knew it, but on this night it was to be different than his usual consolation of reassuring words. Harry knew what Mary needed and he wanted to give it. In truth, he had wanted to give it for quite a long time, but knew Mary would never have him in her bed, let alone her heart. There was no room for another with George residing within; therefore Harry only pulled from the embrace, "I know Mary." She released him, and as he turned to leave, Mary asked, "Harry would like to come in and have some tea? I'm not tired enough to sleep, and I would really enjoy the company."

Where God closes a door, He opens a window. If the castle was Mary, and George had closed the door to her heart, the window was left open when he left for heaven, giving Harry an entrance inside. "Yes, Mary, I would enjoy a good cup of tea."

"I'm sorry to keep you from your lady friend. It was very rude of me…" Mary could not get out another word, for Harry hushed her with, "She wasn't a friend, Mary, no need for you to worry over her lost company."

Mary, using her own free will, opened the door to her home and her heart. So Harry entered and, that night, tea it was. It was lunch the next day and dinner the day after that. It went on from there and through the summer and autumn -- every day that passed, Harry and Mary spent together. Harry had every intention of selling the tavern to his business partner, and as Christmas approached, he readied to sign the deal and be done with being a pub owner.

Wendy and James smiled to each other in silent victory as Harry and Mary did what folks their age do. Aside from long strolls in the park and attending parties together, they also delved into the other's interests. Harry taught Mary card games, and Mary educated Harry in the fine art of cleaning. She taught him how to play chess, and he educated her in the proper ways to balance her personal ledgers. They talked, and talked and talked, never at a loss for words with one another. There was never silence between them, for they shared secrets and stories of the past, not to mention, hopes for the future. And although they had spoken the sentiment of "_I love you_," many times before, soon -- but not too soon -- those words had grown into a different meaning for the both of them.

Harry was a different sort of man than George. He had just as much wealth, (if not more) than his baby brother saved away for rainy days, only he was unafraid to spend that wealth at times of cloudless skies. Thus, he took Mary out to restaurants every night of the week, and on many day trips and weekend excursions. Harry indulged her appetite for the theater and ballroom dancing, after they'd finished their dinner. He bought her jewels and showered her with gifts worthy of a queen. Harry was a proper gentleman; he opened doors and pulled out chairs for Mary, escorting her everywhere they went proudly on his arm. Invitations that came only addressed to Mary, now included Harry's name as well. The same for Harry, who raced from the pub to the Dunange residence the moment he received the first request for the presence of "Mr. Harold Darling and Mrs. Mary Darling" at a dinner party hosted by one of his old business associates. Thus, Harry became a constant presence in Mary's life, from morning 'til night. Consequently, wherever Harry was, Mary could be found beside him.

And so, Harry's attentions continued, as did his luxurious presents. First, it was a necklace for her birthday, followed by the matching earrings and bracelet. It wasn't long before her jewelry box was filled to capacity, leaving Mary repeating at least once a week, "Oh, Harry, it's lovely, you shouldn't have. I'll treasure it." But he wanted to, and he continued to, always explaining his generosity away with, "You needed it, Mary to match your outfit." Those gifts never bothered Wendy in the slightest, although, there was one ring Wendy found particularly interesting when her mother and uncle sat down to dinner on Christmas Eve.

A brilliant square-cut diamond, larger than any Wendy had ever seen, set upon a dazzling band of smaller diamonds sat beside Mary's wedding ring to George on her finger. Wendy said nothing, only pinching James under the table to draw his attention to it. He shrugged his shoulders and listened to Mary and Harry ramble on about what they had done together while they were away for a week in France visiting with one of Mary's oldest and dearest friends, Mrs. Bishop, the dressmaker. "Did you hear me Wendy?" Mary asked her daughter.

Wendy hadn't heard a word her mother said, and was startled to find the supper table silent awaiting her response, "What did you say mother, you had lunch with whom?"

"I said that I saw Vivian while in Paris and she insisted your uncle and I go to lunch with her husband and their family. The entire time we were together, she called me 'Aunt Mary'. Her husband and children think I truly am her Aunt, and apparently their Aunt as well. Now, I have never been called 'Aunt' by anyone before in my entire life and they just kept saying 'Aunt Mary, Aunt Mary' over and over again! I do believe every single sentence they spoke began and ended with 'Aunt Mary'! I just kept thinking they were speaking of Aunt Millicent, as if any moment she would plomp down at the table and order her own meal! It was all so very humorous!" Mary chuckled, thinking the story rather funny, as did James and Harry.

Wendy was not amused and she snapped, "Why did you have lunch with that whore?"

"**Wendy!"** Mary gasped, clutching her hand to her neck, as now it was James' turn to pinch his wife under the table. "Gwendolyn, how dare you use language like that at the dinner table?" James retorted, glaring at his wife. Wendy lowered her head, mumbling, "Sorry mother."

Mary was unimpressed by her daughter's apology and offered, "You know dearest Wendy, you of all people should be able to understand what it is like to be made to live in the shadows of a checkered past. Vivian is a lovely woman, a devoted wife and doting mother to her children. She sent her well wishes to your family and gifts she made for your children. No matter what happened long ago, she has changed for the better, and deserves the respect and honor she has worked relentlessly to earn."

This time Wendy's apology was genuine and from the heart. She raised her head and gazed at her mother, unblinking, "I am truly sorry mother. Please forgive my harsh tongue." She then looked about to her uncle and husband, "You have my sincerest apologies, gentlemen."

All was forgiven, but no matter what happened for the rest of the night, Wendy stared at that diamond ring, never taking her eyes from it.

Instead of hearing her mother gossip about womanly things as they did the washing up, Wendy called to mind relevant changes in Mary that she had witnessed, only now with the ring staring back. She recalled that it was her Uncle Harry who was greeted at the door with a kiss, morning, noon and night. It was Harry whom her mother sat next to at the dinner table and chatted with. It was Uncle Harry who read the paper in the parlor with Mary right beside him doing needlepoint, smiling back and forth as the evening wore on. As James' house quieted, and all were in bed, Mary and Harry still sat in the parlor together and on more than one occasion Wendy had stumbled to the kitchen for something in the middle of the night, finding them awake drinking tea, talking and, worse (to Wendy), holding hands.

Harry took her mother away and made her happy, Harry was taking her mother away period. But the worst thing that could happen now had, which Wendy realized all too late, was that Harry had replaced her father George in Mary's heart and on her lips.

At midnight mass, Wendy still watched and finally spoke up when Harry and Mary sat next to each other and held hands as the service began. He kissed her cheek, and she returned the gesture, this time on the lips, complete with a blush and small giggle after their eyes flirtatiously met under the candlelight. It was God's house, so Wendy did not shout, but the look on her face when she said it made her message to her mother very clear, "You are lovers, aren't you?"

Mary's eyes went wide and she turned to Harry whispering something in his ear. He also glanced to Wendy, who would have hissed back at him if possible, causing him to shift a little away from Mary and release her hand. James was watching as well, and sitting opposite Wendy, caught Mary's eye, mouthing silently, "Take back his hand, Madam."

Mary agreed with James, so she moved from Wendy's side to Harry's, and retook his hand, reaffixing the smile on his face. His raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it adding one more for good measure to her lips, stealing George's special kiss from the corner. Wendy stared, and watching the robbery intently. There it was one moment, gone the next. The kiss her mother hid on the side of her mocking mouth, the one elusive kiss that had been there as long as Wendy could remember. A thief had just stolen the one kiss Wendy Darling could never capture!

Wendy was holding one of her sons, still a baby, while James held Jane. Mary was holding their other son, and Wendy, in her anger, snatched her baby out of its grandmother's arms. James would not tolerate that behavior either. He frowned at his wife, who had just made her mother's eyes well up with tears, "Give your mother her grandson this very moment. The argument you wish to engage in is not your battle to be fought and you will not fight any war in God's house for I will not allow it."

Wendy handed her mother the olive branch, her son, only for God and no other. The moment mass was over and they were headed for home, Wendy took back her peace offering and stalked off towards the motorcar without a word. James, Wendy and their children rode in their car home; Harry took Mary in his own. "I should have taken my mother home, but no, instead I let her go with my uncle. He is probably raping her right now, that villain! She is a married woman!" Wendy fumed as she paced the front foyer awaiting her mother's arrival.

James was astonished by her outburst, asking, "Whom is she married to, Gwendolyn?"

That infuriated Wendy all the more, "MY FATHER!"

"Gwendolyn, your father died. They were only married until death parted them. And your Uncle Harry is far from a villain," James replied, but Wendy was not listening, she was walking out to her uncle's car to bang on it in her rage.

James was quick; and caught his wife before she embarrassed herself further. He pulled her back up the front steps, inside the house and then carried her kicking and screaming to their room where he dropped her on the bed.

Shaking his finger in her face he repeated something unknown to Wendy. "Your father wanted your mother to go on. He did not want her to suffer for the rest of her life being alone. He suggested himself in a letter to your mother that she find another man to marry and spend the many years she has left on this earth with. That is what she is doing and you cannot ask for a better man for her than your Uncle. He was always loyal and kind to this family, and has played out his part to perfection in everything that has transpired to keep your family together in more ways than you can imagine. He has always done everything that has ever been asked of him, and he has done it without question. Had he not interceded for your father, HE, George Darling would have died alone and unloved. Harry is a good man, and he is good to your mother and good to us as well. Have you not noticed that our Jane calls him Grandpa?"

James lowered his finger and rested his hand on his hip shaking his head. Raising it to look at Wendy, he saw she was not convinced, "What has he done?" she seethed. "He is a drunk and the black sheep of the family, James! He has never married and has no children. The only friends he has are drunks and gamblers. The only company he keeps is with whores. He has to pay them to love him. No one thinks enough of him to even love him, James! What does that tell you?"

James looked heavenward, taking a quick breath, trying to contain his anger. Feeling it best to end their argument quickly, he blasted, "Your mother loves him!"

"SHE DOES NOT LOVE HIM! She only spends time with him because he buys her fancy things and takes her out to dinner! He spoils her! He pays for her affections, James! He made my mother a whore without her even knowing it!" Wendy screamed back, facing him.

The temptation was one even Captain Hook could not resist. James grabbed his wife by her shoulders and shook her, hoping to shake some sense into her. He threw her back on the bed and quite frankly replied, "Your mother loves him. She always loved him, only now it is something different. She spends time with him because she loves him. If he were a penniless pauper, a black sheep of the family, Gwendolyn, in your father's absence, she would still love him! And if you even hint again that your mother is a whore, I will--"

"What, James? You'll hit me!" Wendy shouted, never expecting to hear the quick response he gave, "Yes. I will hit you, for you would be deserving of a slap in the face for calling your mother anything less the proper lady she is!"

He strode back and forth quickly, and then stopped as he was reminded of another fact long forgotten, "You are wrong about your Uncle Harry in more ways than you can imagine. He was married once and had a child."

"Oh really," Wendy sneered as she fixed her dress that was disheveled by his assault.

"Yes really," James sneered back, stalking to the front window. He looked down to make sure his mother-in-law was still safely sitting inside Harry's automobile and out of ear shot when he turned round and shouted, "He married Margaret Davis, your Aunt Millicent's daughter."

"He most certainly did not," Wendy retorted.

"Yes he did. He married her in France after taking her to retrieve her daughter Martine. He signed his name in place of your father's on Martine's birth certificate to intercept the scandal your Grandpa Joe caused, naming your father as her sire. He returned her home with her daughter, allowed her to divorce him and still continued to pay support to her and her daughter even though the entire event was a complete and utter fraud to save your father and his reputation. He lived through it all alone. In truth, it is my understanding, that it was quite a joke about the pub that Harry could not even keep a lover that was known about the town as an 'easy lay, who was really good in the sack for being so young and eager to let any man have at her.' "

For reasons unknown to James, Wendy jumped up from the bed and began hitting him on the head and face. He defended himself best he could without hitting back, and once he broke her onslaught, she shrieked, "You are very cruel!"

James was dumbstruck, and stepped back from his wife. Wendy was hysterical with tears. Her husband raised his hands, looking at her in bewilderment. Wendy composed herself enough to explain, "They weren't talking about Margaret, they talking about me!"

"Were you ever married to your Uncle Harry, Gwendolyn?" James asked stupefied, as Wendy wiped her face and shook her head, "No, but I…" She sat on the bed and he sat beside her, causing her mouth to snap shut.

"They were not talking about you. They were talking about Margaret." He shook his own head and wrapped a loving arm of comfort around his wife.

"No they weren't…" Wendy offered hopelessly.

"Were you there when they mocked him?" James asked.

Wendy responded, "Were you?"

"No, not in person, but your mother told me the story as did your Uncle Harry. You see, Gwendolyn, Margaret could not obtain a divorce on her own, and once she and Harry were wed, she truly was his. He could have kept her and her daughter as his wife and child. Ah, but he knew she did not love him. He told Margaret they could stay married if she wanted, and he would be a good husband to her and love Martine as if she were his own. But Margaret graciously declined. He then divorced her, and all his drunk gambling friends, as you call them, made fun of him and ridiculed him for not being able to keep a prostitute as his bride."

James watched his wife stare down at the rug in the room. "I was under the assumption Margaret told you all of this. Why would you think for even a moment they were speaking of you, Gwendolyn?"

Margaret had told her, John as well, and of course Wendy knew the reason she thought James spoke of her, not her former sister-in-law, but she did not wish to share it, not with her husband. "I don't know, I guess my reputation and all. I'm sure some people thought if Uncle Harry liked loose girls and I was once a loose girl, that maybe I let him take me to bed."

The truth of her statement was written all over her face. James saw it, but if it there were any certainty that she had lain with Harry, by his persuasion or hers, hidden behind her supposition, he did not want to know. But then again, possibly he did. "Did your Uncle Harry proposition you for your favors, Gwendolyn, ever?"

"No James, never." Wendy gave the honest answer to that one specific question.

Wendy rested her head into James' embrace and he went on with what she really wanted to know about. "Since you are so concerned that he and your mother are lovers, I will tell you he has not had the honor since their courtship began. He assured me of her virtue, if you will, himself. And I will tell you another thing, Gwendolyn, he is a far better man than I. I would have never given your mother the courtesy of her own bed let alone hotel room when in France or anywhere else I took her to for that matter."

"She forgot my father…" Wendy softly replied as her heart was breaking.

"That is a not true, Gwendolyn, your mother would never forget your father." Without letting her speak for he held his hand over her mouth he continued, "and she did not replace him either. Your mother has always had a large and never ending heart that has loved ten times more than what most people can. Your father Gwendolyn, has the same. Your father is still in her heart, as are all the others she has cared about throughout her life. Harry is in her heart, Wendy, he always has been. Now he holds a larger piece, but fear not for he has taken nothing of your father's or anyone else, including George's kiss. Your father brought that to heaven with him, it is Harold's kiss she wears on her mocking mouth now."

James knelt before his wife and held her hands. "The greatest hardship of loving someone is releasing them, letting them go, even if that means they are going on without you. That proves your father possessed a huge heart. That proves he loved your mother more than himself or any other. Your father wanted your mother to go on, and so now your mother must, for him."

Wendy was not the least bit convinced, shaking her head, folding her arms all the while wearing a frown. "Why must she be with Uncle Harry? My father's own brother? No, he would never approve. She should be happy to have us as her family, she does not need my uncle or any other."

James knew the answer, but also knew it was useless to tell her that night, for she was not listening, only thinking of Harry's ring sitting happily with George's on Mary's finger. The Patron Saint of Neverland had one last task to complete before he could be relieved of his duties and granted his wings; therefore, he beseeched his wife for aid. "Please, Gwendolyn, talk with your mother." She had no idea what he was talking about, and since he said nothing more, Wendy went to bed.

Not one to dream, or so Wendy thought, she was very surprised to awake inside of one. She was not alone, Captain Hook, the dreaded pirate who helmed the ship the Jolly Roger, greeted her on deck, wearing his best, complete with hat and hook for a right hand. "James!" Wendy yelped, astounded to see him back in his former environment on this night.

Wendy was dressed in the fair maiden's wardrobe she once wore herself, and they happily danced around on deck for some time before getting down to business. As he twirled her about with Mr. Smee playing the violin, Captain Hook asked, "What was my greatest fear, fair maiden?" He dipped to her as the song ended, and another began.

"That you would die old, alone and unloved," she replied, as now a group of happy pirates employed other musical instruments to make the harmony more respectable, as it had been years since they were blessed with James and Gwendolyn's company.

"And why is it fearful to die when you are old, alone and unloved?" he called out to her as he spun her about into the arms of a young man she thought was her father.

Wendy looked upon his face and noticed the difference immediately. He did not wear spectacles and had hazel eyes. "Uncle Harry?" Wendy asked as she stepped back from him. A young man of twenty-five, Harold Darling stood in the Joseph Baker's bakery picking up his parent's order for the week.

Mary Elizabeth Baker, Mr. Baker's daughter strolled in, inquiring after her father who was "out making deliveries all morning," as the girl working the counter informed her. Mary was only a young girl of seventeen, and that afternoon in particular was the first that she had her parent's permission and Aunt Millicent's approval to accept the offer of a young man wishing to court. Harry tipped his hat to her, and Mary thought him marvelously handsome, although she was rather put off that he, so early in the afternoon, already reeked of liquor.

She was far less enthralled when he asked to walk her home and she strolled along quickly to her door, doing her best to act disinterested in his cheerfully flirtatious conversation the whole way. He asked if he could stop in and meet her parents, and she went inside to ask.

Aunt Millicent, who was watching from the window, gave an unexpected "Absolutely! He is a doctor from a well-respected and rather wealthy family. Send him in!"

Mary Elizabeth slowly returned to the stoop, biting her lip, and replied to her first suitor, Harold Darling, "She said you could come in."

"Alright." Harold took a few steps up the Baker's front steps. Harry offered a smile along with his arm. Mary took it and opened her front door.

Aunt Millicent was standing there and yanked Mary inside alone. "On second thought, Mary Elizabeth, absolutely not. That gentleman can not come in." Millicent leaned into Mary and whispered, "I hear he is a drunk, and he already has quite a reputation with the ladies, my dear. What would the neighbors think if I allowed him to court you. No man of wealth and circumstance will want to marry you, Mary Elizabeth, after you've been seen on the arm of Harold Darling! I thought you spoke of his brother, Charles, a far better match for you." She pushed Mary back out onto the stoop leaving a confused and disappointed expression on Mary's face.

Even though Mary acted disinterested, she was excited that a gentleman, such as he, was actually so obviously infatuated with her. Mary thought of him and his kinds words as they walked. _'Maybe it was just wine with lunch'_, Mary thought. He didn't seem drunk, rather, she found him very pleasant company, and was angry with herself for not being more talkative as they strolled. He'd offered his arm as he escorted her towards her home and she had declined. She had been rude, and in her mind, she told herself so. "My name is Harold, Harold Darling, but please call me Harry," he had told her and she remembered other girls from schools chatting about him, wishing, hoping, and praying he would stop by their homes to come and court. "Oh Harry is so very polite and pleasing, and good looking. I hear his kisses are adoring and lovely and practically perfect in everyway! His skills with the ladies are the stuff of legend, Mary Elizabeth!" Her best friend Penny had gossiped as they past near his office on the way to the park only the week before. Mary at the time had no idea what Penny could mean about his skills aside from kissing, but she blushed and giggled just the same.

Now he stood, Harold Darling, a charming young man, fresh in the world on her front stoop. Mary would surely be the envy of all her friends and every other single girl in London for that matter. He was very handsome, especially when he smiled and inquired, "Is everything alright?"

And at that moment, Mary realized, Millicent had said "NO!" And this "no" was more painful than any other her aunt had spoken before.

"My aunt says the parlor is not dusted, therefore we cannot receive company today," Mary managed.

Harry lowered his head, "She said I was not a proper gentleman to court you," Harry responded, and Mary nodded, head lowered as well, for what else could she do? "Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mary Elizabeth," he told her, taking her hand in his, and giving it a polite shake.

"Thank you for walking me home, Sir. I am sorry about my aunt. If you like, maybe you can stop over later when my mother is home alone without her sister-in-law for company. She is more agreeable about meeting my friends." Mary replied, giving Harry her best mocking grin to tempt him into returning.

Harry gently turned her hand as he still held it and brushed his lips upon it. Without another word, Harry dismissed himself home, and to his fate.

There it was, plain and simple, at least to a pirate captain who took his fair maiden back into his arms and danced her away to Neverland and his ship. Wendy was not convinced and she told him so, "So what? I always knew my mother was wicked in her younger days, I read that very story in her diary. That just proves she should not marry my Uncle!"

Captain Hook sighed. Persuading Gwendolyn to see both sides of the coin was always such a daunting task, and in this case, he was relieved he had returned prepared. He dipped Wendy and ravaged her neck and then dropped her hard on the deck. "SMEE!" he shouted stalking up to his first mate. "Did she agree to help us?" He raised his hook, all shiny and new, to Mr. Smee's nose and he in return handed his captain a small brown satchel. Captain Hook snatched it up and strolled over to his love, already on her feet.

"A gift from Queen Martine, we shall use together this very night. All hail the Queen!" Captain Hook shouted, and his men in unison bowed and removed their hats.

"Who is Queen Martine?" Wendy laughed, for her name and titled rhymed.

"She is my replacement!" Captain Hook said proudly, as he bowed to his beloved. "Now fairest Gwendolyn, I could just go about and show you anything you want to see, for I have all the magic I need in this little bag to bring you anywhere in time you want to go. But for the sake of not wasting any of that time, I am going to make this trip as simple and short as possible." He opened the bag and removed a handful of ashes.

"Fairy dust?" Wendy queried, causing all on board to fall about laughing.

"No, dearest Gwendolyn, this is much more powerful than fairy dust, this is … well … fairy ashes …" He sniffed them and purred, "Tinkerbell…and here I thought Pan had wasted all that was left of her…" He sprinkled it over the both of them and just like flying to Neverland out the bedroom window, they were on their way.


	73. Chapter 73 The Choosing of Three

_Author's Note: This was difficult chapter to pull together, and I hope it is not too confusing. I tried to make everything as simply explained as possible. Any questions for clarification, as most revelations in this chapter will not come up again, please email me. Thank you Cheetahlee for your input on this one._

My Darling Love

Chapter 73 – The Choosing of Three

"_Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye."_

_H. Jackson Brown Jr._

Just like in Wendy's previous dream, which she now inexplicably remembered vividly, while flying along they were both pulled up so fast Wendy cried out in horror. James did not cry out, only yawned as he flipped over and enjoyed the ride.

They were there, and the angel Jane met them right outside massive gates of gold and pearl that ran up into the sky as far as the eye could see. This was a moment Wendy Darling Dunange never wanted forget as long as she lived, for this is the only time Captain James Hook ever called anyone in his entire life, "Mother." He called Wendy's own mother Mary, or Madam, which she preferred. He embraced Jane, and Wendy gazed on in awe as "mother" and "son" spent a few stolen seconds together alone. James and Jane smiled at one another with much adoration and affection without speaking, only touching the other by placing their own hand to the other's heart. All too soon they walked back to where Wendy stood smiling.

"She now has doubts and will destroy everything, mother." James began with a furious tone that frightened Wendy into a straight and timid face.

Jane removed her hood, and showed her own face, and it was not a happy one. "She was all too willing to cooperate once," Jane glared with red fire burning her eyes, her son, Captain Hook, the same.

"I do not think she sees it. Show me, Mother, what you showed her," he said, and Jane folded her white gloved hands together as if about to pray and then opened them. A glorious white light projected out and James watched with wonder. Wendy could not see what he saw, for when she moved for a better position to look, all she could see was a brilliant beam of light, brighter than the sun.

James shook his head and nudged Jane, "I do not understand. You showed her everything and that, along with my story -- well, it makes no sense. Did I tell it correctly, mother?"

Jane nodded her head to James and then turned toward Wendy. Captain Hook did the same quizzing, "Gwendolyn, are you daft?"

Jane offered, "Nothing is ever easy, my son," with her angelic smile and crystal blue eyes before replacing her hood and returning inside the gates.

"Nothing is ever easy," Captain Hook repeated as he sighed, regretting that this task would most likely take him all night to complete. He wrapped his arm around the fair maiden and stepped forward, falling with her downward as she held on for her life.

"What happened?" Wendy asked, meaning where she was, for she did not recognize her surroundings.

"You are daft, Gwendolyn."

Wendy was oblivious, and rather insulted by his rudeness. She tugged on his sleeve. "Fine, I am stupid then, but where are we?"

They were in a castle elsewhere in time, and, down the hall, coming straight at them was Lorraine, George's wife from James' fairytale. But she was quite different this time as Wendy cast her eyes on her. Instead of an aged appearance, complete with gray hair, Lorraine seemed much younger, years in fact. Her hair was a lovely shade of red, still elegantly glorious in cascading waves of splendor. "Excuse me, Madam, do you know where I can find the highest tower?" James asked politely with a bow.

Lorraine looked at James and then to Wendy and then up to the ceiling, giving it some thought. "You go down this hall and take the first staircase up. Then you make a left and follow it all the way down to you reach a landing with a crimson rug, you go down a flight of steps and then up the next that will be before you. You can't miss it. Then you take a right and then your first left, another right and then your third left, you'll see a portrait of King Arthur. There you take the fifth staircase counter clockwise from the portrait and half way up you'll see…"

Lorraine was just rambling on moving her eyes back and forth between James and Wendy. "Do you see it now, Gwendolyn? Do you smell it? Now? Do you smell it, Gwendolyn? Sniff-sniff. Oh you missed it. Oh yes, the eyes. We must not forget her eyes! Very important! Now? Do you see them? Look at her eyes, Gwendolyn."

With nothing else to go on Wendy stared at Lorraine; for whatever poor Captain Hook meant, Wendy could not figure out. As she said "no" for the hundredth time and Lorraine told them in great deal how to get where they wanted to go, James stepped forward and grabbed onto the unsuspecting lady-in-the waiting to the Queen by the shoulders, swinging her about to face Wendy. "Very sorry, Madam, but please, indulge me a moment."

Lorraine did not fight back, only went wide-eyed and stared at Gwendolyn Angelina Darling before her. "Now, Gwendolyn, what do you see?" Wendy saw nothing and so she told him. He encouraged her further with, "What color are her eyes? Do you notice anything out of the ordinary wafting about this fine lady?"

Captain Hook was increasingly aggravated, and he harshly grabbed his own fair maiden, Wendy, by her arm and dragged her face to face with Lorraine. He mimed sniffing a scent ever present in the air and pointed the tip of his hook to her eyes. Wendy saw the hue and took a deep whiff with her nose and mumbled still densely uninformed, "Her eyes are hazel, and she stinks of liquor, James."

Lorraine turned bright red and then turned to face the pirate captain before her, remarking, "I do enjoy a bit of drink throughout the day to help me along. It's a hard life for me with Queen Mary gone."

Captain Hook raised his brow to his fair maiden, still unseeing, and inquired, turning his head to the wife of George the peasant gardener, "Where did Queen Mary go, Lady Lorraine?"

"To heaven," Lorraine sadly spoke, lowering her head to hide the tears that began to rain down her rather beautifully defined cheeks.

"Did you not promise her, Madam?" Captain Hook reprimanded, causing Lorraine to nod her head. "Yes, I promised my Queen and I will make good on my promise," Lorraine stated firmly, whipping her face with her dress sleeve.

"Good," he replied, "Then get to it, Madam!"

He turned his attentions from Lorraine to his wife. "Therein lies your story, Gwendolyn. Now will you ask your mother?" He leaned his head over Lorraine's shoulder giving clarification to his request, "Ask her to read your father's letter. I wrote it myself, of course, it was his words. But just the same, you should read it."

Hook released Lorraine with a bow and kiss on the hand and she went scurrying away down the hall in a rush. Wendy still did not understand, and so she asked, to his final loss of patience in the matter, especially when she tottered back and forth on her feet recalling totally irrelevant details of her other dream, "Lorraine was at the winter party held at my father's parent's house -- she went off into the room with Charlie, or was it Peter?"

Captain Hook bent at the waist and put hand and hook on his knees shaking his head. "THAT IS NOT THE SAME LORRAINE! Do you think there is only one Lorraine on the face of the planet?" He rose, shaking his fist up to the heavens, then walked away .

Wendy chased him down, listening as he grumbled to himself, " 'Tell her a story' He said, 'get her prepared,' He said, 'explain it best you can,' He said … 'Do your best to make sure everything ends like it should once and for all,' HE said … 'Remember, you don't have all the time in the world,' HE said … 'Remember, James, time is running out for you,' HE said …"

Captain stopped dead in his tracks, again shaking his fist toward heaven, this time calling out, "NOW WHAT?" he repeated, while Wendy ran after him, and still he muttered, " 'Won't get involved,' He said, leaving it up to me, He said! 'But remember, James, you are not to stay forever,' HE said! And now as everything is coming to a happy ending, it's all just all jumbled up in a fine mess as always!" James looked up through the ceiling to the heavens above, "AND HOW MUCH TIME DO I HAVE LEFT MY LORD GOD IN HEAVEN?"

A rumble of thunder, shook the castle they stood within. James, still looking up, lowered his eyes to Wendy. "Well, we'll just see about that…" he snarled, his face falling into a sinister glare as he turned about on his heel.

Wendy wasn't listening as Lorraine explained the way to the highest tower of the castle, but James apparently did, for after a time of quickly walking up and down stairs and halls, they were there. He went to the window and threw it open, and stood in the ray of sunshine that poured into the empty room, then turned to face Wendy who was crying and out of breath.

"Wendy -- darling." He sneered her surname, meant more as wicked mockery than a call of affection. He turned around and held his arms out, as if expecting her to run into them. She didn't, only waiting in the doorway.

"What do you know about your uncle, aside from what you have seen in your dreams?" he asked, and Wendy shrugged her shoulders, "I know he killed a boy while operating on him, and because of that, and the fact he is a drunk, lost everything."

Captain Hook nodded and leaned forward repeating nastily, "lies, lies, lies..."

There was no lie in her recounting of a commonly told tale and Wendy told him.

"I know I this is going to hurt, a lot, but as I see it, there is no other way." He leaned his head back and looked out into the sky that had clouded over instantly. "Do your worst Lord, for I am deserving of it!" Captain Hook declared and with those words, a torrential downpours of rain began with loud thunder resounded shaking the ground from the huge jets of lightening striking the earth.

"You are very correct in Your thinking of me, Dearest Lord, Light of Light, True God of True God…I am rebellious…" James shifted back and stood before his Wendy, "No, keep your distance Gwendolyn," he commanded as she took a swift step toward his arms. With her safely pushed away, he began.

"For the sake of time and a happy ending for your parents -- as they are deserving of an eternity uninterrupted without all this worldly nonsense, Gwendolyn, you must listen and ask no questions. Do not doubt what I say, for once it is said, it will never be said again." He stood further away from her shifting only his eyes upwards and then back to her once more with raised brow.

"First, Gwendolyn, the truth of our situation…I am not your husband and father to your children. I am not a carpenter who was once a priest. I was only entrusted with his body to assure that you were married and called a "wife" and "mother" in your lifetime. You see, dearest love, when I am done with this final task, I am to return to heaven. When that happens, Captain Hook, as you know me, will be no more. You won't even remember me … you will only remember James Dunange, and what a fine man he is, fair trade for me on earth. All the bygones that are bygones will be just that, bygones."

Tears already in her eyes overflowed once more, "No, you are real! My love for you made you that way!"

"No, your love cost me my heart. Peter Pan stabbed it clear through! Don't you remember? And without my heart, at least on earth, I cannot live."

"You have no heart?" Wendy asked running towards him, but he grabbed her about the shoulders and threw her across the room.

"Of course I still have my heart. However would I be able to love you like I do without it? It's just not the one that would assure me a happily-ever-after on earth. In heaven, yes, but on earth, I'm sorry, my love, no. We are not really married, for you are truly married to another. So, for the time being, I've been borrowing Father Dunange's heart and body. And a fine heart it is. You see, Gwendolyn, although he made a good priest, God knew he would make a better husband and father. And that is why, when you prayed, he was chosen. You both needed to be convinced to go on, him away from his misdirected calling, you away from a pirate captain. If you were not so daft dearest love, and utterly deaf and blind to see the truth of situation as it was, I would not be here at all. But alas, you are, and so, here I am once again, a servant to the almighty Lord sent to save the day!"

As he spoke, the first bolt of lightening crashed in through the window and struck down Captain James Hook. He fell to the floor, but stood again. His pirate regalia was now gone, and he was no more than a man dressed in his pajamas, with long curly dark locks and a hook for a right hand. "I could have done that myself, but thank You anyway!" he shouted out into the darkened sky.

"Now, with all that aside, on to your parents. I was cast in your father's likeness, and your are mistaken to think it any other way." Another a bolt of lightening struck him in the back and removed from him his hook. That surge of power took a lot out of him and it took him quite awhile to stand. As defiant as ever, James shrieked as he got up, "WHAT WAS THAT FOR? SHE KNOWS THAT PART ALREADY, DOES SHE NOT?"

"But you told my mother you came first?" Wendy asked clutching her hands to her chest. Seems the dearest Lord in heaven was angered by Captain Hook's questions, and so another bolt of lightening knocked him down once more as Wendy spoke.

After moaning in agony he chuckled, "Well Gwendolyn, my beauty…I lied to your lovely mother…"

On his feet, he now went on and the rain that poured down also began pelting the castle with hail and sleet. "I was cast in his likeness, Queen Mary's George, and no other. BUT that is not why we are here now. All the proof you will ever need is in the eyes. But since you are blind to it, I'll educate you a little in the rule of three. Now, listen…" James panted, out of breath.

"Lorraine, the peasant wife of George, has hazel eyes, as does your uncle Harry. Lorraine, the peasant wife, is a drinker, a hard day indeed with Queen Mary gone, I'm sure. Hard day with Mary there as well. George's mother introduced Lorraine to drink, after her marriage, to soften the blow of her husband's continued love and devotion for the Queen. You see, Gwendolyn, Mary and Lorraine soon became the best of friends, who shared George in common, but not in the beginning. And with Mary sitting on the throne, even after they all became comfortable in their situations, George's mother constantly reminded Lorraine Mary was always to be first in George's heart, and George first in Mary's. That left poor Lorraine playing second fiddle in both of their hearts. And no matter how good Lorraine was to George, no matter how many children she gave him, Mary would always be his truest love, the one he would look for in heaven. Thus, she became a drinker. But I digress, for after a short time, all that didn't matter because Lorraine soon discovered that they all loved each other, just in different ways. George loved the woman Mary was, he loved the wife and mother Lorraine was. Mary loved them both as her best friends, although she did love George more, because he came first. Therefore, Lorraine loved everyone equally, no matter what they were to her. So you see, it was the three of them, Mary, George and Lorraine. Three. And it was a good arrangement and you know that with good, there must also be evil, and so you have George's mother wreaking havoc, making her daughter-in-law a drunk. Not that they were without other evils, but that, my love, is a different story. Anyway, THANK GOD Lorraine was a strong woman, and a good partner to George, and a good friend to Mary, although when not around them, she was took to the bottle, leaving herself inebriated, because of his mother. That woman never thought Lorraine was good enough for her only son, especially once he had the Queen's affections. And before Mary died, she discovered her lady-in-waiting's bad habit. Queen Mary, wise in her ways, interceded for her greatest loves and asked Lorraine to stop drinking, not just for herself, but for the others that loved her as well. And she did. We arrived here on the day she decided to honor her vow and quit the bottle, forever."

"Now listen carefully, Gwendolyn, because here is where it gets complicated. Think of your father, your mother, and your Uncle Harry for a moment, won't you?" James placed his hands on his hips and tried in vain to catch his breath. Wendy did as she was told, while staring at James.

"Alright … here we go … Harry was a drinker for the same reason, being second fiddle. His own mother gave him his first drink when he was only a young child of seven, to soften the blow of George being her favorite. She never thought her third son good enough for anything in life, no matter how hard he tried to please her. And your Uncle Harry never blamed George for it. All of George's brothers were jealous of the attention Josephine Darling showered upon your father. They took everything away from him that gave him even a little happiness the moment his mother turned the other way. And worse, she knew it and allowed it, in order to keep your father close to her. The only brother who ever gave George peace was Harold. He could have married your mother, Wendy -- it was all there for the taking. All he had to do was return to your mother's home an hour later and meet Elizabeth Baker. But no, he stepped away, leaving her for George, for that is what God wanted that day on her front stoop. In fact, of all the Darling sons, George and Harold, were always close as children and closer as adults. Harry left London because he felt it best to have your parents live the earlier part of their marriage unbothered by his company. He wanted to give them the room they needed to grow together. Just like Queen Mary did for George and Lorraine.

"Thus, Gwendolyn, you have your father George, Harry his brother, and the evil of their mother. Now, we have two, and the rule is three, so who is missing? I just gave you your answer, it was your mother. And whom did Harry stop drinking for? I believe it was your mother. And did your parents and your Uncle Harry all love one another? Did they not accept their situations in life for what they were? Yes, I think they did." With that affirmation of the truth spoken out loud, saving Wendy another lesson and a few steps up the ladder on the way to heaven, Captain Hook was again hit with lightning that blasted him across the room and into the stonewall.

Now more intent to be heard than before, feeling it could not get any worse, Captain Hook stood up with short neatly trimmed hair, each change to his persona making him less and less the dread pirate captain.

"Fair play, Gwendolyn, you must remember fair play. Queen Mary lived alone without her George, for he was married to another. She died and he lived on, still with the other, Lorraine, for company, but more so for the love. Mary, your mother was lucky in the hand she was dealt this life, she got to marry her George, but just as before, fair play being what it is, the years she spent in heaven waiting for him, he now must do waiting for her. Therefore, she is now alone on earth with no other. BUT, that would be unfair, so there is another, the same other from this story only in reverse! NOW DO YOU SEE?"

Another bolt hit him and he was now a writhing mess on the cold stone floor. Wendy went to him only to be shoved away once more. "Lorraine was happy her entire life with George, even though she knew her own husband loved Mary more. She accepted being his second love, unquestioned, and until Mary died, she drank. With Mary gone, and at her request, she spent the rest of her years sober. Your Uncle Harry has been unhappy thus far in his life, and drank his years away without ever being loved even second in a heart. He stopped drinking when your mother asked him to, and has been sober for years! If you added it up, in years, Harry and Lorraine are equal in that hardship, except Lorraine was never alone or unhappy when she had George, she died right after him. Your uncle has always been alone and unhappy, and now it is only FAIR he not be. He has hazel eyes; he loves your mother knowing there is always to be your father before him. If your mother is one, your father is second, and Harry is third - HE IS THE OTHER FOR YOUR MOTHER! God in Heaven has been hiding him in plain site all these years, Gwendolyn. Now do you see?"

_"**Cheater!"**_ God thundered down from the heavens and with one last wallop of force, a massive bolt of lightening jetted down and shocked Captain Hook's body into convulsions. He had no power of speech to cry out and Wendy, his wife on earth, went to him. God could not allow that, for vengeance is His to have, especially with one so rebellious, and so He gave voice, _"**Leave into the light, Gwendolyn, without Captain Hook."**_

Wendy wouldn't leave, and being willful, and now all seeing, called out, "He is not a cheater! He only wanted to help my family and I! We, all of us, deserve to know the truth regarding our situations on earth. All this mystery, all the unknowns…It only causes hardships and suffering!"

_"**You must learn to see all that is unseen through your own eyes, dearest heart. It is unfair…"**_

"Unfair? You speak of unfair! It is unfair that Uncle Harry is to be second to anyone or Lorraine for that matter! If they did what they were asked, why were they punished in their lives?" Wendy was bold, and she interrupted the Lord mid-sentence, leaving him fuming mad above in the clouds.

God on His throne, looking down, replied, **_"Who are you to question Me?"_**

Wendy was the daughter of Queen Mary and George the Banker, and she loved everyone in her life more than she loved herself. She proved her heart true, so the answer she wanted came quickly and in a polite tone from above. **_"Each soul has their own lessons to learn, and every heart must learn to come second before they can be first. I assure you, Gwendolyn Angelina Darling Dunange, in a former life, you learned that lesson yourself! Now, go home…"_**

God sent her rocketing out the window, only to have her safely land in bed beside her husband James. She bolted awake and shook him the same and began shouting, "Are you alright? What did he do to you?" checking him from head to toe.

"Who did what, Wendy?"

She may have been blind to Lorraine, but not to James. "What did you call me?" she asked, and he answered, sleepy-eyed, "Wendy."

"My name is Gwendolyn, James," she corrected, only to hear him reply, "That is your name, yes, but no one calls you that."

"You call me that," she retorted causing him to chuckle, "Wendy you must still be dreaming, for I have always called you Wendy."

"James," Wendy began, turning on the light in their room. She stared at his face searching for what she always saw of her pirate captain in him, no longer there. Wendy hurriedly got up from bed without explanation, and raced to the attic. Her portraits and sculptures of a pirate captain named James Hook were gone. Not stolen away or thrown out, they were always there, for Wendy gazed upon the reminder of him often. In their place, she found a multitude of portraits and statuettes she had crafted of another man, unknown to her at the moment. She raced down the steps, knocking into her husband who was chasing after her and right into her mother entering in the house through the front door. "Mother, tell me about Captain Hook," she pleaded anxiously.

Mary gave her daughter a quizzical expression, "Who? Is that a character from one the children's stories?" She asked as she hung up her coat and hat.

"He is a pirate captain, mother." Wendy declared, nearly shrieking.

"I don't think you should be reading your babies scary stories with pirates and such nonsense. It will give them nightmares, Wendy." Mary continued until she saw her daughter's terrified expression. Mary gazed past Wendy to James, who could only shrug his shoulders. "Did you have a nightmare, Wendy? About pirates?" Mary questioned with a concerned and terribly confused expression.

Wendy jerked about and looked to James for some sort of godly wisdom he was famous for. He had none to give, so Wendy demanded, "James, tell me about your childhood."

James thought it was a rather peculiar question for the middle of the night. "Again?" he asked, but he felt it best to oblige. Mary made tea, and together they sat at the kitchen table. Before James began his tale, he casually remarked to his mother-in-law, "Before I forget Mum, please tell Uncle Harry, I repaired those bar stools for the tavern that needed fixing."

"What did you call my mother?" Wendy asked, shocked out of her being by the way her husband unceremoniously addressed Mary. "Mum, I called her Mum." He replied, absolutely baffled by his wife's behavior.

"No, you call her Madam…Mary even sometimes." Wendy snapped back glaring at her husband. Mary just sat unspeaking in between the both of them watching the strange display before her eyes.

"No, I call your mother Mum, Wendy, I have since we were married. I have never been so discourteous or disrespectful as to call Mum by her first name…and Madam? Madam? Why would I call Mum by such a formal fancy title?" Poor James didn't know what else to say, so he just recounted how he was a baby birthed to older parents, whose father died before he was born, his mother right after. With no other family, he was left in the care of nuns at a church orphanage, who led him as a young adult to the profession of priest.

"So you were never a pirate captain?" Wendy asked, when he finished.

"No Wendy, I have never even been on a boat, that I can remember."

Wendy closed her eyes and dropped her head on the kitchen table, sitting nearest her mother. She opened her eyes and caught sight of her Mary's ring, a gift from Harry and asked, "Are you and Uncle Harry to be married, Mother?"

Mary quickly covered her hand with the other, reminded of her daughter's outburst earlier in the evening. "I'm sorry I was rude to you, Mother, and Uncle Harry, I just never thought you would want to marry again."

Mary uncovered the ring and stretched out her long delicate fingers. "Your uncle asked me only this evening, before dinner. He knelt down on the front stoop and asked politely for the honor of my hand. I told him I wanted to talk it over with my children, but he insisted I wear his ring anyway. I wanted to speak with you, and learn your feelings before I formally accepted his proposal."

"Let's talk about it then, Mother." Wendy offered an olive branch, her hand over her mothers adding a smile of good faith.

"Alright, Wendy, but not tonight. Tomorrow."

Mary kissed Wendy on her forehead, and James as well, before heading up to bed. "Do you think she would have said yes, Wendy?" James asked, where Captain Hook would have commanded as Mary ascended the stairs.

Wendy nodded, "Yes," she told him, rising from her chair as well.

Christmas morning was a mad rush, with three children opening presents and tearing into new toys and games. James sat in the middle on the floor, delighted with his children, holding their mother about the waist and asking, "Can we have another baby, Wendy?"

Wendy thought him silly, "James, you said you only wanted three."

He shook his head, "I said no such thing, Wendy. You did. I would love to try for a fourth. Can we?" Wendy was genuinely confused and for a time, she felt her world was tilted wrong somehow. Throughout the morning Wendy constantly quizzed James on things only Captain Hook knew or would understand and each time she was denied access to the secrets stolen from his heart.

"Are you not happy with me, Wendy? Did I do something wrong? You said you only wanted a new winter coat and hat for Christmas. If there was something else you desired, I would have purchased it for you. I'm sorry if you are disappointed. If you want, later this week we can shop for something else. Anything you like. I love you more than anything in this whole world, Wendy. I only want to make you happy," James finally responded when she did not return his embrace, and refused his kiss after thanking her for the hearty breakfast she made -- eggs and bacon, his favorite.

She stared at his entire being, finally realizing that Captain Hook was gone forever, and now there was a strange man in his place, standing in her kitchen. And this man, James Dunange, was the same from all her portraits hidden in the attic she had spent the rest of the previous night gazing intently at.

The mild resemblance to her father -- the form Captain Hook returned to earth with, once hidden behind his facial hair to mask his identity as a former man of the cloth -- had faded. Dark curly locks hidden by the neat trim were replaced by a much lighter shade of brunette, straight as an arrow, cut the same way. Eyes as blue as forget-me-nots, now were chestnut brown. Facial features, lips, nose, eyebrows and complexion, all altered. He was still as tall, but no longer a dominant force within the room. More calmly disposed, with a relaxed smile. His good hand was calloused from his labor, the false one crafted from wood was chipped and worn with use; her pirate captain's hand was smooth and unmarked, even with hard labor. And always present, even if only in her dreams, but no more, his shiny, sharpened hook, gone forever. The only ring James wore upon his finger was his wedding band and as Wendy touched it, he used the opportunity to raise her hand and brush his lips upon it. "I love you, Wendy, please tell me what's wrong."

Wendy had never met this man before in her life. Oddly, she thought he was very handsome and she was very attracted to him. _'Very much so, in fact, I have never seen a man as handsome as he,'_ she thought, although, he bore in no way, shape, or form even the slightest similarity to Captain James Hook. But that alone did not take away the heart he had in his chest that beat for her and her alone.

For a moment, she did not respond, only concentrating on the sound of her own heart that had with his words skipped a beat, and changed its tone. Instead of Captain Hook, it now beat for her husband James. She looked up into his eyes, chestnut brown, shimmering in the daylight reflected, and saw in him all she would ever need to live happily ever after. She hugged him back with all her might, and did just as Captain Hook had asked and expected from a woman capable of loving others more than herself. She let her pirate captain go and went on. "I love you, James, with all my heart. There is nothing wrong."

With Wendy on her way, why should her mother not be allowed to go along as well? "Where is Uncle Harry, Mother? He is coming over on this blessed day, is he not?" Wendy asked cheerfully, surprised he had not yet arrived on for the holiday.

"I told him not to come by until supper, Wendy."

"Then he is to be alone on Christmas day?" Wendy asked, taking a moment to appraise her mother's disposition.

Mary did the same and replied, "He told me last night he felt uncomfortable coming over, even for supper. Really, him not stopping by to see the children open their gifts was his idea. He didn't want to intrude on us. He said he might stop over at a few of his friends' homes instead, only to make me feel better I'm sure. He would never intrude in on another family -- including ours -- uninvited. He does not think he is welcome in your house now. I'll go visit with him later. I will be spending the evening with him at his flat, we will exchange our gifts there. I bought him a pocket watch for Christmas…" Mary lowered her head without a smile and went on with her work.

Mary helped Wendy wash the dishes, and Wendy Dunange, the wife of James, who always wanted to see the secrets and confidences her mother wore upon her heart wanted the pain first, so she asked, "Do you love Uncle Harry … more than you love Father?"

The last part was a little hard to push from her lips, but Wendy did, and so Mary answered. "I love him, Wendy, but I do not think it is possible to love anyone more than I love your father. It's not just the years we spent married, or the children we had together. Our love is something completely different and impossible to describe. I told Harry I would marry him, as long as he promised not to look for me in heaven. I want to be with my George there."

Wendy cried and so did Mary. George cried also on his cloud. "But I do love him enough to marry him and be a wife to him, and a good, loyal and loving one at that. Neither of us deserves to be old, alone and unloved. And together, we can enjoy the years of our lives we have left, contented and happy."

Wendy imagined George the peasant and Lorraine his maiden in the fairy tale, holding the same conversation of the heart after they were wed. She had heard it herself, George told Lorraine he was to look for his Mary in heaven. And now here, in her father's house, Mary informed Wendy of the same. "Do you think Father would give you his blessing, Mother?"

Mary never had a single solitary intention of showing a soul the letter James had penned on George's behalf. And she wouldn't have, had not Wendy asked. But she did, so Mary gave it to her, kept in her drawer of dreams. She handed it to her daughter, along with three letters, each from a different member of Mary's family, each one from a different place in time, all relevant to the story of her life. "Your father's is the last Wendy, the others were enclosed with it."

The first letter was from Grandpa Joe to George, dated when Wendy was only an infant, months before John was born.

_Dear Mr. George Darling,_

_I'm sorry to title you so formally, although I must say you are deserving of the formality, but I was sure that if I addressed it any differently you would not have read past the first line. George, my wife Mrs. Baker is sick, on her deathbed. She has been calling out for Mary Elizabeth for days. I went to look for your family myself at your old residence only to find you not there. I spoke with your undertaker friend, a very nice gentleman who informed me of all that you and Mary have accomplished together since your wedding. I must say George, I am very proud of you, for what that is worth. I did not make a very good impression on him, he thinks very ill of me I am sure, he would not even give me your new address for fear I would spoil your lives further._

_There comes a time in every man's life when he must admit to not only God above, but to himself that he is wrong. This is that time. George I was wrong. I was wrong about you, about Mary Elizabeth's love for you, your love and intentions towards her, and everything from the moment you two met till the very moment I realized my errors in judgment. If I could take back all the wrongs that I have done not only to my wife, my only daughter Mary Elizabeth, and to you, you must believe me; I would pay to the devil to make it so. I should have been the one to bring order to my house, accepted you properly as my son-in-law and hosted a grand wedding for my daughter and her intended, no matter what the circumstances. I should have welcomed you into my home with your wife, my only daughter, and my grandbaby with open arms. I do not even know my only grandchild's name, let alone what she looks like, but I pray for her, and for Mary and for you also George, every night._

_I know it is not my right to ask, but please, make peace with me and I promise to be a good father to Mary, a better father-in-law to you and the best grandfather to your daughter. I have asked for God's forgiveness, and He has granted it, along with better ears to hear with, eyes to see with and a mouth to speak with. I will use them in His good services for the rest of my life. Mrs. Baker is to receive her last rites tomorrow morning. Her doctor has informed me that her time when she will be received in heaven is only a day or so away. Still she cries out for her baby. Please, George, bring Mary Elizabeth by this night, as there is not much time left. I also humbly ask that you bring your daughter with you as I am very eager to meet her. I promise to be on my best behavior and not a cruel or unkind word to you or your family will ever pass from my lips._

_I am not the monster you think me, George. I know you have heard many stories about me, most of which are true. Please give me another chance to prove myself not only as a man, but as a husband and father. I will give you and your family all the help I can give, I will be there. That is my solemn promise. My wife says she will not live to see the day that all this comes to pass, and I admit, she is probably right. But, I would not be able to sleep another night if I did not at the very least try to make things right, as they should be. This is to be the only letter I will ever bother you with. Thank you for reading it, George, and I pray that you will find it in your heart to have mercy on me. Please give all my love to Mary Elizabeth and my granddaughter, and you as well George._

_Very truly yours,_

_Joseph Baker_

It was a lovely letter from Wendy's grandpa that was an easy read. Without a word, or warning from her mother, Wendy went on to the next. Had she waited only a moment she would have seen her mother's face give an angry scowl, rereading her owns father's words once more. All Wendy got was, "No questions about this?" To which Wendy replied, "Nope," and went on.

The second letter was Grandma Josephine's addressed to Mary, dated sometime before her death, only months before Mr. and Mrs. George Darling ventured off to Paris for their ill-fated holiday. "I read that letter for the first time, the night I found your father's, after he died." Mary pointed to the messy and illegible penmanship of George's shaky blinded hand. _"Forgive me, Mary,"_ scribbled across the folded stationary.


	74. Chapter 74 Seen and Unseen

My Darling Love

Chapter 74 – Seen and Unseen

"_Everyone has three characters, that which they exhibit, that which they have, and that which they think they have."_

_-Alphonse Karr_

_Dearest Mrs. Darling,_

_I always found it so odd that we shared the same title and the same love for a solitary man. Quite differently, as I'm sure you know, George was my favorite son. Is still my favorite son, actually, and just like you, Mary dear, I hate Peter. When George was an infant, no older than four, I had to care for my mother-in-law who was very ill at that time. Peter was older, a man of almost twenty, and I foolishly left my baby boy in his care. At the time, Peter was studying to become a doctor at the local hospital, a place where the poor and destitute went when they were sick. Savages with knives, my husband used to call it, but Peter loved it there. Now I know why._

_He took George to a special wing in the hospital that was supposed to be quarantined. He led my favorite son down the corridors, and let him play with the children covered in head to toe rashes of red blisters and chafed peeling skin, coughing and hacking with high fevers all day long. That is all George ever remembered of that day. Two weeks later the man we share came down with a horrendous fever, rash, and a cough so horrible he could not breath. His fever was running hot, and the only thing, I, his mother, could do to bring his temperature down was to lay him in an ice bath. That didn't work, instead, he got worse._

_The physician that was called to my home said it was the smallpox that was killing my boy. My husband sent George to the hospital where Peter had originally taken him for my baby boy to be quarantined as well. My husband made me stay home and leave my baby in a hospital to die alone. I sat in my chair, at home, with my rosary beads praying. I know you do not think me a God-fearing woman, but I am. And I prayed. There was not one second that passed that I did not beg the Lord to save my George from the grave. Peter told me that, even if George recovered, he would be a monster, scarred and hideous to gaze upon, he told me it would be better off if he just died. So I started praying that not only he be saved, but God should make him handsome and heal his wounds as well._

_Peter returned home, and told me George was all but dead, that the skin on his bones had melted away. If the smallpox didn't kill him, an infection from the filthy instruments he used to treat George would. But somewhere between the star filled sky and the sunlight of morning, I awoke and found my son wide-awake and waiting for me. The doctor that treated him could offer no explanation, only telling me that George would be blind. You know as well as I, Mary, George has needed spectacles, but he was never without his vision. The doctor also told me George may become deaf one day due to the damage, but his hearing is fine and I should know, he always listened to me._

_This is how Peter punishes those who get in his way. You are not the only one Peter chased after, Mary. He was also was quite fond of your mother at one time. Oh yes, dear Mary, I remember the story quite well. George running into the house, telling me of how Peter cornered your mother like a wild beast sniffing fresh meat in an alley, and all but raped her in broad daylight. Again, my George was there to save the day. He, only a little boy of four, jumped on top of his brother, who was on top of your mother, ripping off her bloomers, and began smacking him in the head. Peter threw George off and your mother, the former Elizabeth Duvall, fled._

_I never liked your mother, and that is why. Some will say it was because of that winter party where George ruined your dress, but that is untrue. The reason is simply this, after my George (nay, not my George but your George) was cured, your lovely polite mother told me he should have died. That would have been a fine punishment for me after birthing a devil in the flesh that stole her virtue. Apparently Mary, your mother's bloomers were already off when George rescued her and my son Peter was all but finished with her. You should thank God it was not you hidden in white born with the surname of Darling instead of Baker. I'm sure it would not have mattered to Peter, he still would have had his way with you, even if you were his own flesh and blood._

_My son George is blessed. He should have been a priest. I wanted nothing else in the world than to give him back to God, for that was his true calling. I see now, that I was more correct than ever. I did everything in my power to save you, Mary, but I must warn you, George has the devil in him now. You put it there. You made him a husband and a father, and for that you will pay dearly. Although I suppose what they say is correct. Turnabout is fair play. Here my baby boy gets you in the wrong way on purpose and you go and do the same to him. Setting an appointment to see Satan, were you?_

_I wonder when it will be? Peter is planning a pretty little party for you and your husband. Oh yes, it is to be a glorious extravaganza, celebrating my funeral, complete with a lovely castle and fine young ladies for the men to delight in. If I were you, I would make sure George is attached to your hip. For as I am sure you are aware, Peter will sacrifice everything to get what he wants. And as far as he is concerned, George is already dead._

_You probably did not even read my last few lines when you should commit them to memory. But I understand your worry. Confused, Queen Mary? Did you think George left it in you for he knew no better? His father told him how to give a woman a baby, and he also told him how not to. George meant for you to have that baby girl. Not only did he tell his brother, Harold, he confessed it to me. What do you think he did those months you were trapped in your bedroom? He prayed that God would give that child and that means of escape. And as the days went on and on he cried himself to sleep that his plan failed._

_Just one more thing, Mrs. Darling, I want you to know. Be on the lookout for the daughter of your friend, Penny. I would suggest you check the street corners and the pubs late at night. Seems she is a whore like her mother before her. But you knew that already, your son John, named for the saint of silence, is all the proof I will ever need on that measure. You will see Satan indeed, Mary Darling._

_Josephine_

_**- Madam, this letter was given to George by his brother Harry, after he arrived back in London. It was mixed in with her personal effects that whomever looked after Mrs. J. Darling had given him as his inheritance. Harry never read the letter. George received for the first time with the seal closing it away from prying eyes, intact. - James **_

"Goodness, Mother, poor Grandma Elizabeth!" Wendy cried out as she hugged Mary tightly.

Mary only shook her head; "That is why I asked you about my father's letter. I forget you only knew him as a changed man."

"Changed man?" Wendy asked, rereading Grandma Josephine's words once more.

"The man you knew growing up, Wendy, was not my father. Well, he was, just not as he was when I was a child. Grandpa Joe, at least to me, was simply an old man afraid he was going to get locked out of heaven by his own wife."

"Really, Mother, it isn't very nice to speak about Grandpa Joe that way," Wendy exclaimed, more interested in Grandma Elizabeth, his wife, at the moment.

"Wendy, you have no idea what it was like growing up in my house. My father was always horrible to my mother. The worst your father ever did to me? Increase the suffering tenfold, and make it a daily torture, and that, dearest, is what my mother lived through for years. She loved him endlessly, and still he hit her and cheated on her. He was an awful husband, and a wretched man when my mother was alive," Mary said, shaking her head.

"He didn't seem a bad man mother when we were growing up. He was such a loving and adorable creature. I love Grandpa Joe, and I still miss him," Wendy offered, simply stated as it was.

"Like I said, Wendy, the man that raised me and your Grandpa Joe were not one in the same. I remember hearing my parents fight in this very room, as it was their bedroom at the time, when I was only a small child. I can hear it in my mind, as if it happened only a moment ago. He would call her an ungrateful whore, and accuse her of taking another man into the house behind his back. _'I'll show you, Elizabeth, you tramp, I'll take up with some pretty thing and steal my baby girl away and you'll never see either one of us again. We'll leave you like the filthy little whore you are because that's what you deserve!'_ Then he would hit her and she would plead with him for mercy. In my mind, I can see him. I can see what he did to her in their bed those nights. _'You want mercy Elizabeth? I'll show you mercy!'_ He was a sober man and never drank, so I can't even blame it on liquor, only on his rage." Mary lowered her head as she went on, ashamed to admit the truth to her daughter, still innocent, unknowing of such wickedness.

"He raped my mother, Wendy. Over and over again, it seemed like almost every night, although I'm sure now it wasn't. But to me, just a child myself, I would cower in the corner and listen to her cry out as their bed hit the wall and he threatened, _'Let me find out which man is the one you're screwing, and I'll kill you both! Now shut up, Elizabeth and take it like I give it!'_ She would scream and always that unceasing banging of the headboard against my wall."

Mary's eyes held Wendy's with a sincere honesty, "My mother was just like me, a homemaker who doted on her only child, and loved her husband more than herself. My mother never cheated on him, she never brought another man into this house. It was always just she and I, at home alone. And when I went off to school, Aunt Millicent came over to act as a shield for my mother because she knew what her brother was capable of. That is why she didn't want them to marry, Wendy. It had nothing to do with money, for my father was no better off than my mother on those measures. He came from poor relations as well. Aunt Millicent was his sister, she knew of his temper, his unquenchable thirst for revenge. Aunt Millicent knew there was another for my mother before my father…and she knew her brother's jealously of not being my mother's first love would soon boil over and only add to his anger and hositlies towards her."

Mary gazed at Wendy and tried her best to smile. Her best efforts only produced a half frown as she spoke, "It only got worse as I got older. _'If you think I'm going to let some tramp tell me how to raise my daughter, Elizabeth, you are sadly mistaken! I don't care if you birthed her and almost died doing it, I will not have my Mary Elizabeth turn out like the spoiled loose whore you are!'_ They didn't know I could hear them through my wall in the night. They thought I was sleeping…" Mary put her hand on her knee and leaned over, making Wendy think her mother was about to vomit at the recollection.

"My Aunt Millicent used to capture me each weekend when I was child, and take me to her mansion … I always thought it was because she had no children of her own. She was always picking on me all day long, and correcting me. I used to beg, as I got older to my mother, _'Please don't make me go,'_ for I hated spending time with Millicent. My mother used to make me go, just to get me out of the house. And if she faltered, my Aunt Millicent would remind her of the time. One look at the clock, and I was sent packing off to Millicent's each weekend. Now I know, my poor mother and my poorer Aunt Millicent were doing their best to keep my mind away from fearing the monster my father was then. They used to sit in the kitchen and talk, and then, _'Mary Elizabeth, it's time to go,'_ and I would be gone off in a carriage with my meddling, intrusive, rude, arrogant Aunt Millicent. My Aunt Millicent…My own personal patron saint, Saint Millicent… Saint Aunt Millicent was only trying to save me from what I heard of my parents during the day and into the night. She was not only my mother's shield, but mine as well.

"So, when my mother found out that my father made good on his threats and cheated on her, she tried to kill herself. I was just eleven. She slashed her wrists with his shaving razor and went to the church. The priest found her lying in the cemetery, above her own plot. She told my father there was no other man in her life, and if he still didn't believe her, even after all their years together, then he should just let her die and rest in peace. He could have me and he could run away with his pretty little thing and marry her. _'See how well another woman would treat you, Joseph,'_ she told him. _'See if another woman will love you like I do, and forgive your flaws and still be a good loyal wife to you.' _I guess that's why he stopped hitting her and calling her a whore. But the damage was already done. His affairs with other women continued, just so he could show he was the king of the castle and my mother accepted it, and remained that corpse she created that day in the cemetery."

Wendy finally spoke, not really sure what to say to ease the pain on her mother's face. "Grandpa Joe told Father he only had one affair, with the girl that worked at the counter in the bakery, and it was over after only a little while. He just kept her working there out of spite. Is that why Grandpa Joe didn't yell at father, and demand an explanation when he learned of his affair? Because he knew he had done much worse, and he would be the pot calling the kettle black in a way, mother?"

"I don't know, Wendy, truly. Maybe he felt it wasn't his place, the pot calling the kettle black as you say, indeed. He knew what I had seen…"

Mary took a moment to gather her thoughts and clarified, "My father only ever claimed one affair, and that was the same to everyone who knew him, and I guess he might have counted that girl working the counter one affair; after all, the position was the same, just not the face. I'm certain for a time he had at every girl that ever worked at his counter. And there were many. In fact, when I would go to visit the bakery on Saturday to bring him his lunch, I would see them. Sometimes it would be the same girl for months. The one you speak of, he kept on staff for years. Others would come and go, and only last a few weeks. But there that nameless, faceless, girl of no importance would be, after the morning rush, sitting on his lap in the back room, with his hands up their skirts, shifting about in the most inappropriate manner. _'Oh Mary Elizabeth, my lunch. Good! I'm starving; hard work will do that to a man! Tell your mother I won't be coming home until late so don't hold supper for me!'_ And then to make matters even worse that real life whore in the flesh sitting on his lap would jeer at me, _'Tell your mother I said hello as well sweet Mary Elizabeth,'_ as if to mock my mother, the saint she was, to stay married to that rat. I hated him then, and he knew it … my mother knew I hated him, and can you even believe it Wendy? That just hurt her more."

"What did you do?" Wendy asked, touching her mother's hands.

"Nothing. What could I do? I was not even thirteen at the time. I watched my mother suffer endlessly. I told her we could run away together and start over, but she wouldn't listen. She would just hug me and kiss me and tell me everything one day would end happily, if not for herself, then at least for me. I asked her on her deathbed, if she had to do it all over again, would she have married my father."

"What did she say, Mother?"

"She said no. She said when she first met him, he was a knight in shining armor who rode in on a stallion and saved the day. He promised to be good to her, and never hit her or beat her or cheat on her. Millicent didn't approve of their match as I've said for her own reasons hidden within her lies, and my father, being brave and courageous, rescued my mother from her tower yet again. They ran off and got married and he carried her in his strong, able arms the whole way from poverty to the lap of luxury. My father, as you remember him, told me he had at my mother before they were married, _'By mistake, Mary Elizabeth, it just sort of happened,'_ whatever that means. He knew she wasn't a virgin, but was madly in love with her, so, at that time, it didn't matter."

Mary relaxed back on the sofa and crossed her arms, recounting intimate details of her heart as Wendy listened, "Obviously once they were husband and wife, it mattered. He thought back to their first time together months before they wed. He thought of her as loose for letting him get into her bloomers so easily. _'I expected a slap in the face from your mother, but I got her licking my ear and pulling on my trousers, so I figured, to hell with it!'_ " Mary mocked her father's voice.

"And then to find her already broken, well, good Lord! She must be a whore, for in that day, this was simply not done. My mother, as do all women, had her secrets and the name of the man who had taken her virtue was one of them. She told him it was only one, but he believed one meant many, especially when she would not disclose who specifically it was. I'm sure it had something to do with the fear she had of his temper. Turnabout is fair play in my father's book, so he broke all of his promises to her. No longer the valiant knight, he became the dragon who breathed fire and nipped at the princess locked up the castle. And after all that was, she never tried to seek her own revenge by hating him or willfully breaking his heart. She told me vengeance belongs to God and my father would pay eventually, if he did not change and do right by her."

"_My day will come, Mary Elizabeth, I must be patient and steadfast in my penance."_

"Around the time I was nearly fifteen, I was dismissed early from Aunt Millicent's and came home to find my mother out on the front stoop. I asked why she sat out in the rain, and she would not answer me. I went inside, just in time to hear my father call, _'Elizabeth! Don't you hear me calling for you woman? Get me something to drink! Bring it upstairs immediately!' _I went into the kitchen and gathered a glass of lemonade and brought it to their bedroom. I knocked, he didn't know it was I; he thought I was my mother. _'Good of you to knock, Elizabeth,'_ he chuckled as he opened the door and went wide-eyed seeing me, his daughter, his only child, standing there."

Wendy went wide-eyed as well, listening to the story. "What happened, Mother? Was he nude? I mean, he was expecting his wife, not his daughter…"

"He was not nude, but wearing his robe," Mary replied, and Wendy sighed in relief, only to cough and gasp at her mother's next revelation, "Although the woman in his bed was bare as the day she was born."

As she choked, and fought to catch her breath, Wendy managed, "What the hell was that man thinking!" Once composed, she cried "He took another woman into his bed with his wife home! Not just his bed, Mother, the one he shared with his wife! He deserves to rot in hell! And to have his only daughter, just an innocent girl find him and some whore together in that way! And his poor wife, made to sit in the rain while her beloved is having it on with another! What did his daughter do?"

Amazing it was to Mary, that her own daughter could distance herself from the tale. In a matter of moments, Wendy had made her own Grandpa Joe, Grandma Elizabeth, and her mother Mary, characters in a horrible story. She touched Wendy's cheek and wiped away the tears that came in her daughter's sorrow. Mary had cried enough that day so long ago, and all the days following, so she shed no tears now, relating clearly, "I told him I hated him. I told him he was a wretched beast who did not deserve a wife or a child of his own, and if he didn't want to be a husband and a father, he should just go away and never come back."

"Good on you, Mother!" Wendy commended, patting Mary on the back. "He must have felt shamefaced and awful for his actions."

"No, he told me to go to my room, _'I'll deal with your disrespectful tongue later, Mary Elizabeth,'_ he sneered and slammed the door in my face," Mary replied, and Wendy watched her expression as she took a moment to think on that memory. Their eyes met and Mary continued, still in a mild tone, "But I did not go to my room. I went back downstairs and sat with my mother in the parlor. I played the piano and she did needlepoint. The woman came down shortly thereafter, _"Good day, Mrs. Baker and the young Miss Baker,'_ she said sheepishly with her head lowered. Now, she was the one utterly humiliated. My father came down some time later and asked my mother what was for dinner that evening, and my mother said nothing, only rising from her chair to go into the kitchen. I followed my mother's lead and fell into silence. I spoke to not one soul from then on. Not my mother, or my father, Aunt Millicent or my friends. I copied my mother's behavior and became a silent statue, who did not even speak when spoken to."

"It must have been awful mother…" Wendy whispered, lowering her head.

"Eventually, I began to talk again. You must not think I spent the better part of my young womanhood silent. I spoke with my Aunt Millicent first, oddly enough, who told me to have no fear, for she would never allow me to marry a man like my father. She told me not to punish my mother, '_for she suffers enough by his hand,'_ thus my mother and I began chatting again, and soon my voice returned to everyone else, except my father. I vowed that day, the day he took another woman into the house, shoving his infidelity in my mother's face, I would never speak to him again as long as I lived."

Mary turned completely to face her daughter, gently taking both of Wendy's hands in her own, "The night of your grandparent's winter cotillion, Grandpa Joe told me I was the loveliest young lady when I descended the stairs as we were about to leave. He told me he was sure he would need to beat all the eager young gents off with a stick, for they would surely be knocking one another over just in the hopes of asking me to dance. He held my hands as I hold yours right now, and looked deeply into my eyes. _'Smile for me Mary Elizabeth, kiss your daddy on his cheek, and tell me how happy you are on this special evening, please, dearest love.'_"

Tears now filled Mary's tranquil eyes, and she threw Wendy's hands harshly away from her without warning. She turned to hide her face and added, "That is what I did to him. I yanked my hands from his and pushed past him to my Aunt Millicent, who was awaiting me with my shawl at the front door. I acted as though I was the Queen, and he was some imsignificant pauper, begging at me feet. I would not tell him I was happy, nor would I kiss his cheek or smile. He looked to my mother for help in softening my hardened heart, and she did the only thing she could do." Without waiting for Wendy to ask what that "thing" exactly was, Mary squashed the suspense with, "She remained silent. It was my Aunt Millicent who saved the day, rather the night.

"After the fiasco of the evening, your father spilling punch on my gown and the bad words and misdeeds that followed," Mary looked heavenward as she spoke and shook her head, "Saint Millicent blasted into this very house and gave me a piece of her mind, reprimanding my actions so ruthlessly I thought I would cry blood. After she was done with me, she started on my father…" Mary fell silent and rubbed her lovely aged face. She opened the letter Mr. Baker had written years before and began reading it again, acting as if Wendy was no longer in the room beside her.

"Mother," Wendy tapped Mary's hand to gain her attention, "What did Aunt Millicent say to Grandpa Joe?"

"I'm not sure. I don't really remember," Mary replied, lost in her own thoughts. "I was sent to bed, I was probably sleeping."

"Mother!" Wendy whined, "I know you were not sleeping! I never slept when you and father fought in the night after you thought John, Michael and I were sleeping …"

Surprised by Wendy, Mary looked up, from the words of her father, written years before, out of the past. "Really, Mother, don't fret over it. James and I have had our fair share of arguments and misunderstanding, and I'm sure my children will do the same as they grow up."

Mary stared at her beautiful daughter, crafted by God, one of a kind, created in the purest love. "Aunt Millicent told my father my unbecoming behavior that evening was a result of all that I had witnessed him do to my mother. She told him _'our children suffer for our sins, Joe, and all the evil we do to those entrusted to us by God receive the punishment for our own wrongs back threefold'_ … Three … Anyway, she told him at the rate he was going, _'poor Mary Elizabeth will find herself married to a horrible man that beats and cheats on her and is nothing but the foulest scum of the earth! And I, dearest brother, will never let that happen, if I have to personally handpick her husband myself!'_ " Mary imitated her aunt's haughty overdone tone, just as Aunt Millicent would have done had she been repeating her own words herself. _"Or worse Joe, no man will want to marry her, for she is cold and unloving with a foul tongue and her father's awful and utterly reproachable temper."_

"Saint Millicent told my father he must set a good example and treat my mother the way he would want me to be treated once I was married. _'If you want Mary Elizabeth to have a kind, forgiving, generous heart, Joe, perhaps you should show her what one looks like!'_ It was then I believe that his affairs ended, and he began doting on my mother. Then and only then did he treat her like a queen, hanging his hat and coat, in the door not even five minutes after his shop closed. He would then be attached to her apron strings for the evening. He said not one unkind word, and was polite as a priest, morning, noon and night. I thought it was over and my mother would finally have the peace and happiness she deserved. But all for naught, for after your father and I got married, he did all those horrible things to us, continuing my mother's never-ending punishment."

"After you were born and he wanted to make peace with us, your grandfather went to the church and prayed for God to help him. He knew he wasn't strong enough to conquer his demons without divine intervention. My mother said he came home a changed man, a completely different person she had never met before in her life. He wanted to make peace with her, and live happily ever after. _'We shall start over again, Elizabeth, as when we were newlyweds, and spend the rest of our lives madly in love!'_ He told her he had always loved her more than any other woman in the world, more than himself, and now, after all their years, he wanted to finally do right by her. But she would have none of it, for it was already too late for her. _'With all I have seen with my own eyes in this life, Joseph, I can tell you this much, given the choice, I would have preferred to die a spinster. __After all, being married to you all these years has left me the same as I would have been unmarried - - old, alone and unloved.'_

"My mother told him the only way she would ever forgive him and look for him in heaven was if he never married again, nor took another woman in his bed until he died. She laughed when she told me that on her deathbed, _'It'll never happen, Mary Elizabeth, so I need not worry my peaceful repose will be disturbed. I won't even be cold in the ground a week before he takes another woman as his wife…'_ " Wendy sat listening as her mother told the story, just like any other Mary had spoken when her own children resided in the nursery.

"That's why Grandpa Joe, widowed so young in life, never courted anyone else. He told me himself, Wendy, '_after my beloved Elizabeth, I could never allow another woman in my heart, for I must see your mother again, Mary Elizabeth. And I will see her in heaven if only for a moment, my dearest daughter, before I am made to spend my eternity in the hell that I am deserving of. I must return to your mother, her heart. She went to heaven without it.'_"

"Jokingly I remarked to Grandpa Joe, 'Do not fret Father, if she has not asked for it back by now, that probably means she does not miss it.' And he replied without breath, Wendy, _'Oh no, Mary Elizabeth, the love that I have now for you and your family does not belong to me, but your mother. Her love has become the entirety of my heart._ _Her love is what changed me, Mary Elizabeth, and just because she has not asked for it back, does not mean she doesn't expect its return. Her heart remains on earth with me, and my own already burns in the fires of hell…_"

Mary suddenly smiled at Wendy, touching her arm, "As I sit here now, Wendy, I can tell you my mother would have locked him out of heaven's gates with or without God's blessing, heart or not. And even though there was never another after she died, he probably had to beg St. Peter on his hands and knees for her whereabouts, because I know she was not there with her face pressed to the gates waiting for him. More likely, she was running away from him, never believing that would be the one promise he decided to keep. Oh, I can see her ducking behind clouds and blending in with the angels the moment she heard of his arrival at the pearly gates, and having kept his vow of chastity in his old age. I do hope they kissed and made their final peace in heaven, God bless them."

Mary gave it a second thought and looked heavenward, "Yes…I know they did."

Wendy giggled, so did Mary, but soon Mrs. George Darling became very solemn again, "But, his cruelty to her, Wendy, his hateful behavior when she was alive, during the time when he was supposed to love and take care of her … I could just never understand if she was so good to him …"

Mary grabbed Mrs. Josephine Darling's letter from Wendy. Clutching it, crinkling it up in a ball she explained, "But now I understand. He knew she had another before him, but she would never tell him who it was, and he punished her for it. He feared he was always secondhand to another. When he lost his mind, Wendy, you should have heard the things he told me when he thought I was she. If he truly knew the circumstances around it …"

"You would have never been able to marry Father," Wendy answered.

"My Aunt Millicent used to tell me my mother had had a mild flirtation with a gentleman whose identity she was unaware of. My mother let him have the honor, because he promised her the wealth of being a gentleman's wife. My mother's parents were very poor and lived on the outskirts of town. She was quite naïve, and, at the same time, was honestly and easily misled, wanting a better life for herself. But when he would not propose, or even introduce her to his family, she refused to continue on with him, fearing he would put her in the wrong way and abandon his responsibilities to her. When she met my father, although she was apprehensive of the same reoccurrence, he seemed different. He went home and met her parents, and then made her meet his parents the very same day. He proposed the day after that, and it went on from there. My father never wanted my mother to have anything to do with raising me into a woman. He feared I would make the mistakes she did, all the while he was unknowingly sending me in that direction, just as Millicent had warned. I never told your father that story, but I did tell your Uncle Harry … he was the one who put two and two together. He remembered my mother, he was only five but was there when Peter met my mother in their final confrontation, although he never knew she was my mother at the time."

"What did Peter say?" Wendy asked, still holding her mother's hands; the two letters fell off her lap to the floor.

"He told my mother he would kill her, but first he wanted one last go at her. He was beginning to strangle her when your father saved her. Harry said to never tell Grandpa Joe, for it would kill him. The guilt he felt over the way he treated my mother all those years without good reason tortured him in his sleep. Harry said my father spent many nights wide-awake at the tavern because he was afraid of his nightmares. Harry said Grandapa Joe saw the devil when he dreamed, a horrible creature unimaginable, that mocked him for playing right into his hands where my mother was concerned. The older he got the more faces of those he knew in life were sent to torment him, showing him their dark sides hidden away behind their smiles and cordial dispositions. The devil told my father that it was by his own hand, guided by Satan, that his wife was sent to an early grave, and I was to befall the same fate. Not by my father's hand, but by others, guided in the same manner. My father never told me of his nightmares, but he did tell me who had the devil's hand was once."

"Uncle Peter …" Wendy answered as she bent down to gather the two remaining letters. Her mother's next statement made Wendy jerk her head up to stare at Mary's blank expression.

"No, your father. Although I'm sure Peter Darling was also one of them, I suppose. Your grandfather called it 'the choosing of three'. I didn't think he knew what he was talking about at the time, as he was already going mad with dementia. Your Grandpa Joe told me the devil gets three tries to conquer and win a soul. To do this, he has to trade love with hate, good with evil, and life with death. He told me the devil uses different faces, seen and unseen, taking turns to hide in plain sight, all the while moving around in threes. Peter Darling was the first; your father, Wendy, was the second, and a boy who refused to grow up was the third."

Mary looked at Wendy, eyebrows raised, and Wendy shrugged her shoulders, only mumbling, "I'm sorry, Mother."

"I wonder mother, do you think the Good of God works the same way…in threes I mean." Wendy asked.

"I imagine so, Wendy, that's seems fair… Maybe Mrs. Frederick Darling was correct, somewhere in my life I made an appointment with Satan himself … Please, Wendy, let's talk about something else, here read your letters."

The last letter before George's was from Harry. It was dated for the time immediately following George's affair. It looked as thought had been read often.

**Dear George,**

**I'm sorry I have not written in years, and I hope all is well. The last I heard of you and Mary, you were very happy with three children. Good on you, George. I have not fared so well. I am no longer working as a physician; I lost my practice a few years back and have been volunteering at the local hospital, doing charity care for the destitute. I think it rather ironic, Mother used to say that only the good die young, and here I am, a sinner sure to burn in hell, and I cannot even catch a cold from those I treat. I'm not sure how much you know of Charles, but he recently died of tuberculosis. I guess it's fair to say that's an incorrect statement about the good, he worked for the wealthy in an expensive convalescent home, and made his living stealing their jewelry and priceless possessions.**

**I'm not married and have no children, although I was close once. I had been involved with a young woman, who, I'll admit, was paid for her services to me. We were never to be married, but I made a simple mistake, the same as yours, and we were to have a child. We were only together a few times, and after not seeing her for a while, she presented me a rounded belly and her claim that I was the sire. I had been rather drunk at the time, and left it in her when I shouldn't have, leaving her in trouble.**

**I was to pay her the baby's weight in gold after it was born, and she was to let me keep it as my own, an unwed father, if you will. I told her I would not marry her, for I didn't love her, nor would I play house and treat her like the lady of polite society she was not. I should have kept a closer eye on her, though, and insisted she stay off the street corners. The baby died in childbirth, infected with a disease she contracted while continuing her activities for the time she carried. To tell her that would be to blame her for our baby's death, and seeing the misery of losing -- either the newborn or my money -- on her face, I conceded that it was my fault. The truth, as far as she was concerned, was that the cord wrapped around the baby's neck as I delivered her, and the child suffocated. She left me, paid in full for her time and poor efforts, and I moved far away from her and my memories of the daughter I would never know. Mother said it probably wasn't even my child to begin with, and I was foolish with my funds for being so gullible. **

**It is rather humorous; one would think with my reputation with the ladies I would have no trouble finding a wife. But, that could not be further from the truth. Absolutely George, I am the man to be seen on the arm of if it's dinner, dancing and a jolly good time out and about at night. But where it matters most to a man, especially in matrimony, not one of those girls that made themselves so available to me wants me for anything more than a good time. Its alright, I have yet to meet a proper young woman of polite society on my own adventures I would think worthy to hold the title Mrs. Harold Darling, and that George, is fine with me. If I should be made to expend money from my wallet to wine and dine a girl, I think I should be at least assured her company back in my bed when the night is complete. Therefore I have found, as I've grown older, prostitutes are simply better partners, temporary situations that involve little expectations on both our parts.**

**I'm sure Peter has given you the intimate details of my disgrace, but Peter, being the great imposter of the family, couldn't possibly have told you even half of it. The stories he and mother wove have me accidentally killing a boy while drunk. You know me, George; you know that's not true. I will not lie and tell you I don't drink, because I do, but I was not drunk nor senseless. There was a small child who was suffering mercilessly after surgery. He was a sad mess, cut from neck to navel with his incisions infected, not to mention whatever it was brewing under his skin that raised his fever to the boiling point. He was going to die. I am a doctor and I know he was. His mother was beside herself, the fatherless infant in so much pain. She did what she had to do to give her son relief. She smothered him with a pillow. What was I to do when I found them? A mother lost, now without her only child, and surely to rot in prison for the rest of her life. I lied to my supervisors and said I cut too deeply into the child while operating, and he died of internal bleeding. I was not drunk when I performed his surgery, nor ****was I drunk when I gave my statement. Mother added the liquor later to save herself the embarrassment of my failure in life.**

**I could never bring myself to practice medicine after her wicked rumors spread like wildfire. I asked her why she lied, and she told me Peter used to do that to his patients. But not to give them relief, he only felt that certain people should not be allowed to live. She told me I was no better than he was, and if he was not made to pay for his sins, someone should. She was judge, jury and executioner, as always, and therefore, I was the one who was to be crucified. I don't ever want to be compared to my brother Peter. I hate my brother.**

**I tried to kill myself with drink, so I'll assume that is why the drinking part is believable in mother's story. Peter helped her along, and spread awful rumors about me throughout the city I was living in. Nevertheless, after he ruined what was left of my reputation and destroyed all that was left of my life, I moved from there as well. I moved again, and he followed after me, almost chasing me down. And then once more, I moved before he met his wife and left for Paris. I'm still a vagabond of sorts, never staying one place very long out of fear he will find me.**

**I remember what he did to you when you were a small boy. I never told mother I was there, because I didn't want to find myself lying in bed beside you. You can think me a coward if you like George, maybe I am. But I became a doctor, George, to save children, all children. And I still do some work here and there. As soon as they discover who I am, I leave, although they always tell me it isn't necessary. I am hoping to start over again back home in London. But I will never be a physician again, not ever. Peter told me if I stopped practicing he would stop pursuing. As always, he is the only one worthy enough to be called "Doctor."**

**On my travels, I gathered Charles' belongings as well as mother's. Both left wills, oddly enough addressing you as chief executor.**

**I had to venture into hell to collect mother's things, luckily the devil was out that day and I never had to see Peter. Thank the Lord one of the girls from the dance hall said he's been out of town for some time. I think after all these years he is still jealous about Mary and me. Although I can't for the life of me imagine why, it was so many years ago and such a small infraction of his rules. I know you are married to her, but I have to confess at one time when she was very young, before you met her, I had quite a love lingering for her. I even asked if I could court her, but her aunt said no. Probably best, Mary has fared better in your care then she would have ever done in mine. You gave her children and a wife should have children. I could never be worthy enough of any woman to be called husband, let alone father to children, for that matter. My own life proves it.**

**But still it makes me fear for your own well being, and even the safety of your family. If Peter still searches me out and looks after my whereabouts to inflict punishment, I can only imagine what you must be in for. But I give my solemn vow, George, I may not have been there for you in the beginning, but I am here now. If you need me, I will be there, not just for you, but also for your family. Ask it of me George, anything, I will do it.**

**I am sending this to your work address and I hope it reaches you. I will not stop by your home or dare send a letter there, I do not wish to disturb the love and joy I'm sure is residing within.**

**Your brother,**

**Harry **

Wendy cried as she read her uncle's letter. The tears came as she read of the child of Harry's that never was. Mary embraced her daughter as Wendy's eyes scanned the lines telling the story, almost word for word, of their own encounter. He was drunk and left it in her when he shouldn't have. She wondered if in fact he knew of their meeting long ago when she was still a young woman. So much like his own experience with herself, with one exception. Wendy had not conceived a child.

If he knew the truth as she went to him with her dilemma, telling him lie after lie as he gave her an examination, poking her womanhood and womb, searching for life residing within, why did he not say something? Her story about a gentleman unseen to him and her parents, he had taken only on her already questionable word. Why did he not confront her? He must have had his suspicions. But she dare not ask her mother. _'No, that would surely ruin everything. My mother can forgive certain things and others she would not. And he having it with me, his own niece, must be some sort of mortal sin in God's eyes. Mother would not only never forgive, but also never forget, and that would be with both of us,'_ Wendy told herself as she read further down, not absorbing any other part of his sad story.

'_And what of James, and Captain Hook, neither of them were aware, but my mother would surely tell them both, and my father too would know if I spoke my fears out loud … And maybe, just maybe Harry really doesn't know, so if I said it, then he would know too. Maybe he knows, and doesn't want to know …'_ Wendy's mind raced. Then and only then did she truly discover the secrets of her mother's heart and why there would always be things hidden, unseen, out of sight and out of mind, not to be shared with another soul as long as she lived. And Wendy the woman was to do the same. Wendy said nothing, and reread Harry's letter, taking in every line and statement once more before finally speaking out loud.

Wendy began with the question of George and being sick as a boy at the hands of his brother Peter. Now she knew the story better than Mary, she had seen it with her own eyes in a dream. Therefore she allowed her mother to ramble what she knew of it and understood without interruption of further questions. When Mary had finished, Wendy shifted the conversation to another topic of interest.

"Did you know of the boy, Mother?" Wendy asked, rereading the letter several times.

"No, your father never told me. When I asked Harry of it long ago, he told me the story every one knows. After your father died, I confronted him with the letter and he told me it never mattered the real reasons, for as far as everyone was concerned, including me, he would always just be a drunk child killer."

"What did you say to that, Mother?"

"I told him I never thought of him that way. Not ever. Being the mother of four children, I should hate him, but I never did. I could never understand why that was. I suppose, perhaps in the back of my mind, I knew a man so gentle, so caring and selfless could never do something so horrible. He loves children, he always has. I'm not supposed to tell anyone this, so you cannot repeat it, but he still does dabble in medicine at the church mission in his free time and at the orphanage. He receives letters of gratitude for charity cares all the time, and he tucks those letters away in special drawer in his dresser, his own drawer of dreams, if you will. The truth lies hidden, as it always is wherever I am concerned."

Mary raised her head and inhaled, slowly releasing her breath before turning her undivided attention to Wendy. Mary took her daughter by the hand and gazed about her new bedroom. Wendy repeated her actions. The old nursery was the glorious room of an older woman, now that Mary lived there. She had changed everything and made it new in there as well. It was a room fit for a queen. The indulgences of an extravagant chaise lounge, new rug and lovely wallpaper hung a month before, a white background with pink rose bouquets evenly placed throughout, and real roses of the reddest buds placed in a grand china vase were all gifts from Harold Darling.

"There is something you need to know, Wendy, that I have never told another living soul …and you need to know it for my heart has held this secret long enough…" Mary fell silent and clutched her daughter's hand tightly. "I committed adultery against your father, Wendy. It was with his brother, your Uncle Harry, God forgive me."


	75. Chapter 75 The Other in Plain Site

My Darling Love

Chapter 75 – The Other In Plain Sight

"_For most people, a life lived alone, with passing strangers or passing lovers, is incoherent and ultimately unbearable. Someone must be there to know what we have done for those we love."_

_-Frank Pittman_

"I know mother," Wendy answered her mother before she could continue with her own story. The truth was simply too difficult to explain, Wendy saw that, too, in her dream, and understood those circumstances of that particular night in the attic, so she conceded, "I mean I didn't know for sure, I just thought you had with Uncle Harry once. What did father do when he found out?"

As Wendy spoke of her awareness, as well as George's, Mary scrunched her face sending her head back on her neck, wincing at the thought as if in pain. Apparently George Darling was not informed of the intimate details shared with no one but those involved. "Tell me how your father knew, Wendy, please," Mary beseeched her eldest child.

That question left Wendy baffled, "I assumed you told him mother, didn't you?"

Mary was strong woman, always well composed, or at least she tried, so she pulled herself together and wiped the tears that escaped despite her best efforts to keep them restrained. Mary began shaking her head, and moved to stand. As she did she repeated, over and over again, "No, he didn't know, there was no way George could have … Please God … Tell me my darling love didn't know … Harry swore to me … Please God …" Instead of standing on her feet, Mary fell against the sofa and began crying out loud, shrieking for mercy, "PLEASE GOD FORGIVE ME … GEORGE I AM SO SORRY …"

Wendy fell to the floor as well, and wrapped her arms around her mother, trying desperately to console her. Mary clutched Wendy, sinking into herself and began to confess, "Harry felt sorry for me, I was in such a bad way with your father after our quarrel, and I was frightened out of my mind that the slightest infraction of your father's new rules would send me to an early grave. Your Uncle Harry did everything in his power to help your father and me to reconcile and forgive. I was living in terror of your father, Wendy. He would be angry about everything all the time, and your Uncle Harry was the only man alive in the world that could protect my children and give me comfort and the love I needed to go on in a day after day in that hell on earth."

"You were lovers then? It was more than just once?" Wendy asked, startled and well beyond aghast as the words left her lips too quickly to be stopped, and Mary nodded still crying. "But Uncle Harry was living here at the time, and you said you never left the house. Where did you go?"

"The nursery…" Mary said softly, looking about the room with tear-filled eyes. She lowered her head and shook it, utterly humiliated in her actions. All at once, she shifted her gaze to Wendy's and held her face in her hands. "You have to understand, Wendy, at the time I speak of, your father wasn't your father as you remember him. He WAS the devil … Lucifer in the flesh, in this house." Mary had begun her sentiment in her regular tone, lowering her voice as she mentioned Lucifer's name, looking about wildly as if the enemy angel were in the room listening.

Still whispering, Mary recounted, "Lucifer would go out and be gone without explanation. Not everyday, but often enough. Back to hell he went and left me alone only for a few stolen hours of peace. The children, Jane, Edmund and Joseph were at school. We couldn't go to the attic, for if the devil came home and found us there, he would know and he would tell George. Or worse, keep my George away from me forever. I couldn't have Harry in my bed, for again, the devil would know another man had been there on the sheets. Lucifer was afraid to go in the nursery, even when the children weren't home. Your Uncle Harry told him if he hurt my babies, he would send him back to hell himself, even if that meant he had to go with him personally. It was our sanctuary. It was where we went when Lucifer was out of the house. Harry would come home from the tavern at lunch and make love to me on the floor by the window …"

Wendy didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. She gazed at her mother, mouth agape, stunned speechless by her mother's confession.

"Your Uncle Harry told me he loved me. I told him if that were true, we could leave at that very moment, whenever we were together and run away. I got down on my knees and begged him to take me and the children and leave. I begged him to save my precious babies and me. None of us would ever be alone or unloved again."

"What did he say, Mother?" Wendy was shaken by the revelation, never hearing this intimate detail of her mother's heart before.

"He told me, he knew I loved your father. _'You could never leave him, Mary. Not after all that you've both endured to be together. You would never forgive yourself for conceding defeat so easily. You are the one who has to save him. I pray to God asking Him to send George back to you, and give you strength and courage and guidance to conquer the evils that have befell us all. Now you must pray for that, Mary, as well. Captain Hook is already praying...'_ We needed one more soul…" Mary looked deeply to Wendy, not only casting her eyes to her, but through her.

"The choosing of three, Wendy, it does work the same for good as it does for evil. Your pirate captain told Uncle Harry that. Apparently, your father, Grandpa Joe and I are not the only ones who held his sacred confidences. Because your Uncle Harry asked it of me, I prayed for the same things he did…Instead of asking God for someone to save me, I prayed He give me the ability to save myself…" Mary stopped for a moment, trying with all her might to gain control of her delicately poised emotions.

As Mary began speaking again, she choked through the statement, making it clear to Wendy that her mother's heart was breaking. "One night, your father just told me to lay with Harry. He wanted me to … He said _'service my brother,'_" Mary sneered, "he dressed me up like a whore and sent me from our bedroom to the attic. If I knew it was to be the last time for us … but he wouldn't make love to me on your father's command. He wanted me to want him, to love him of my own affection. I knew … I knew, Wendy, it was to be the last time I would feel him in that way. Even after he turned me away, I went back to him … just one last time … because I did love him … I did love him of my own heart …"

"I'm sorry, Mother," Wendy muttered, still without much of a mind or voice.

After sitting on the floor together for some time with nothing to say, Wendy finally thought of something to quash the silence. More questions, more doors into her mother's heart, "How did it end, Mother?"

Mary was staring off into space. The tears had stopped, and now she looked drained and dismal. "Your Uncle Harry ended it, Wendy. On that night I was ready to concede defeat. I fell asleep next to Harold, wanting to get caught, only to find myself the next morning back in the same bed I'd shared with your father since we were wed. I raced down the stairs to find my George sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper. At least I thought it was my George. Your uncle told me your father was to be his old self once again and everything should be as it once was. But … I expected George to treat me like he did after his own affair, begging me for my forgiveness down on his hands and knees. I wanted him to not only hand me an olive branch of peace, Wendy, I wanted to whole tree uprooted from the ground to prove his turnabout in unfair play!"

God in heaven was watching and giggled, nudging George's shoulder, accidentally knocking him from his cloud. **_"Sorry, George, but I did tell you the whole olive tree would have been the best route!"_**

"He did nothing but allow the tiniest changes to his rules, which confused me all the more. I went to Harry for that peace, for that comfort … for his love that he always gave to me endlessly … He said he couldn't lay with his brother's wife, the mother of his brother's children. But he had, Wendy, many times and I told him so! He just shook his head to me and said he could betray the devil but not his baby brother. I was quite insistent with him, pleading with him, begging him. I told him, 'however will I go on without you?' He only frowned and told me, _'you will go on with George, because, Mary, that is who you belong with.'_ But I still cried I could not go on. He grew nasty and shouted at me as he shook me, '_YOU CAN AND YOU WILL MARY, FOR GEORGE IS WHOM YOUR HEART BEATS FOR, NOT ME! NOT NOW!'_ He promised to be there for me in all other matters, but as lovers we could no longer be." Mary explained, "I still needed him, and without him, Wendy, I needed another …"

"Captain Hook, Mother?" Wendy asked.

Once again Mary nodded. "But I don't want to talk about him, Wendy." She touched her daughter's face and ran her fingers through Wendy's long locks of brunette. "All that I ask, dearest Wendy, is that you not punish your Uncle Harry for my sins. I was the wicked one. It was I that seduced him those afternoons in the nursery... And please, Wendy...there is something else you must do for me…"

"Anything Mother, anything." Wendy interrupted, taking her mother's hand in hers, clutching it closest to her heart.

"Please remember your Grandpa Joe. What I mean is, when you think of him, when you visit him in your heart, do not let my own experiences with my father, Mr. Baker, spoil his memory. God forgive my loose tongue where he is concerned. Grandpa Joe loved you children, and your father and I, so much Wendy, he did change. It really was as if two different people shared the same body. With Grandpa Joe, there were times when I forgot myself; there was ever a Mr. Baker before him. Without your Grandfather, dearest Wendy, well, our family never would have come this far together…May God Bless his soul and grant him peace, may the perpetual light always shine upon him…He deserves…" Mary could go no further, for Wendy snatched a kiss from her mother's lips to silence her.

"I know, Mother. I don't know the man you spoke of, Mr. Baker, so how could I ever get him and Grandpa Joe confused. I know in my heart, my Grandpa Joe could never be capable of doing those horrible things. Grandpa Joe is in heaven with Grandma Elizabeth and Mr. Baker is in hell."

Mary rose from the floor and straightened her dress. She leaned down and placed a perfect kiss on the forehead of her daughter. "I'm going to see Harry. I don't want him to be alone on Christmas," she said, as she left Wendy alone in her room with nothing but her lies and pieces of her mother's heart left exposed with George's letter in James' penmanship still unread and folded on the sofa behind her. Wendy got up quickly and ran from the room, meeting her mother as she stepped outside onto the front stoop. "Mother, do not fret over father. He died not knowing about your affair, that should make you feel better to save him that pain."

Mary glanced at Wendy and then to the street. "He might not have known then, but he knows now." Mary looked up to the cloudy sky as it began to lightly snow. George up above in the heavens wept. "Read your father's letter, Wendy," Mary repeated and was off in the freshly fallen snow.

Wendy was afraid to gaze upon her father's last words to her mother. James had told her, he wrote it out for her father the night before George died. She did everything within her power to stay busy and away from her mother's room. As dinner was all but hot on the table, and she had run out of chores to do, she slowly ascended the stairs to the old nursery and peeked in. The room was dark and there was not even the moonlight shining in to guide her way to the sofa. Flipping on the switch would have easily aided her, but she felt it best to see George's letter under candlelight, so she lit a match and gave the candle that rested on her mother's side table its flame.

Before she began the letter, she listened to her husband, James, downstairs with her three precious babies playing in the parlor. They were giggling in hysterics, rolling about on the floor and having a jolly good time together on this most blessed holiday, completely unaware of all the dark shadows that had crept into the house to be relived one last time before taking their final repose. Wendy inhaled deeply, and she held that breath as her eyes read the first lines,

**_Dearest Mary,_**

**_I love you._**

**_Now you must remember, death has parted us, but only for a short time._**

**_Remember your promises to me, as I expect you to keep them._**

**_Be happy Mary. Enjoy our children and our children's children and our children's children's children. Help our family make a new home and a better life for their own families. Guide them when they need it. Push them forward when they get stuck. Listen when they talk, and talk when they want to listen._**

**_Love. Love the family we made together and everyone else that comes and goes from your life._**

**_Go on. Live on. Make me proud of you._**

**_Mary Elizabeth, move from our room as the memories in it will stop you from starting anew._**

**_Remember me, pray for me, and love me from a far but do not flounder in grief._**

**_Take each day as it is given and be thankful that you are alive enough to experience it. As you grow older, continue to grow, change, move onward towards your own future away from me and blossom into the rose that you have always been._**

**_I never want you to be alone, dearest Mary, not after all our years together. If you truly cherished being my wife, marry another. Anyone please, but not Biggins Fisher. I think my brother Harold would be a fine match, he has always loved you, Mary, and I know and accept that you feel strongly for him. He claims to be unworthy of marriage and all the pleasures that come from being a husband and father, but I know in my heart he is very deserving of the honor and rewards he has earned in his own life._**

**_Remember, my beloved, there is magic, there are miracles, there is a God and there is a heaven. All you will ever have to do to see them is open your eyes._**

**_Trust what feels sacred and blessed in your heart, Mary, always, for it was my love that put it there._**

**_Thank you for loving me on Earth as well as in heaven._**

**_I promise I will see you again soon._**

**_Your adoring husband and darling love,_**

**_George_**

Wendy cried. If she could, she would have cried for days. She walked down the stairs of her home and to the front door, holding her father's letter in her hands. She looked out and saw her Uncle Harry's car arrive with both him and her mother sitting inside. James stepped up behind his wife, "I've set the table," he whispered, "dinner's ready," pecking her cheek. Before turning his attention to the children, who awaited him already in the dining room, he asked kindly of his wife, "please be somewhat civil to your Uncle Harry tonight. At least for your mother."

"James, read this." Wendy handed him George's letter without looking at him, keeping her eyes toward Harry, who had gotten out and walked around to open the car door for her mother.

Harry was speaking. "You can't really blame her for not liking me, Mary, after all, she thinks I am trying to replace her father, and I'm sure after hearing about our affair, I am too fare no better in her eyes, even if we had good reason at the time … Did she say anything to you after she read my letter? I mean specifically, about me and my past?" Harry asked, helping Mary by the hand out of his car.

"No, Harold. She only asked after the child."

"What child, Mary, I mean which one?"

Mary had stepped out of the car and now stood in front of her almost intended. "The boy that died in your care by his mother's hand," Mary answered, giving it little thought. He offered his arm without a word while Mary thought on. She stopped by the front steps and turned him to face him. "Harold, why would she ask me about the baby you lost?"

"I don't know, Mary, I just thought maybe she would …" He made the same unsure, uncomfortable expression George did when trying to lie, truth always being their better faces. He too was thinking quickly, "She thinks ill of me for taking to bed with loose women, you know that." He nodded his head all about on his shoulders, another trait George had when hiding behind his words, sending up another red flag in Mary's eyes.

"Why would she care that you put a woman of questionable virtue and profession in the wrong way when you were drunk, Harold? What would that have to do with her? With Wendy's reputation, she is not one to think ill of anyone in that way, no matter how pure she claims to be now."

"Well, I just …" Before Harry could back himself further into a corner with anther lie, Mary interceded on his behalf, "And if it was the women of loose means you are worried about, why question specifically if she took notice about the child that was lost? Unless you are worried that she feels knocking up a prostitute when drunk is the lowest of the low."

"You know I don't like to lie to you, Mary, but…" Harold held his tongue and his eyes to Mary, who glanced up to the house keeping her eyes from him. "Mary," he spoke softly to gain her attention. That didn't work, so he touched her face with his hand.

She turned to him, unhappy to think him withholding honesty, and he offered the truth, as he truly knew it.

"A very long time ago, Wendy came to me in almost the same way. She had lain down for a man she said was drunk and she was certain he had left her with his baby. Oh, Mary, she was so scared. She wasn't with child, mind you, but I still gave her a stern talking to and was really harsh with my words, although I did try to be understanding of her situation. The time passed, and my diagnosis proved correct, but still she worried that perhaps she'd lost the baby. I talked with her again, and told her rather crudely that if she wanted to be whore, than she should do as they do and not lay down for drunkards who always seem to put women in that way, being careless. I think reading that about me, and remembering how mean I was at the time, it may make her hate me all the more. I'm sure she thinks me a hypocrite for lecturing her on how foolish she was, all the while knowing I was once that very drunken fool myself." He teetered on his feet and lowered his head.

"Oh Harold, I'm sure Wendy understands better now, knowing you spoke from your own experience. Although, you probably should have told her that then as opposed to her reading it in your letter now."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and retook his arm, playfully yanking him forward up the walk to the house, but he stopped her. "Mary," Harry said, "Do you think me the lowest of the low for what I did?"

Mary exhaled deeply, "If you abandoned that woman, knowing she was with your child, I would think you that low. But you wanted to do your best, maybe not for her, as the situation was not a desirable one, but for your child. Thus, even though the predicament you found yourself in was dishonorable, you were still honorable in your actions. I'm sorry you will never have children of your own, Harry." Mary touched his cheek and moved into his embrace. "Did you ever want them? I mean, Harry, I'm sure when you were younger, you must have…" she asked, raising her face to his.

Harry put his hands on her cheeks, catching the tear that fled her eyes, "To be quite honest, Mary, I never thought about it. I always wanted to be loved by a woman first. I wanted a woman to love me, me for who I was, not just for a good time. You can't even begin to imagine how many young proper ladies of polite society chased after me hoping to hold my arm for a fancy party, a night out on the town and a turn in my bed. And you can also never even begin to imagine how many times I've heard, _'oh no Harry, I just wanted a little fun with you, nothing more. I heard from one of my friends how marvelous you are in the sack, and I must say, she did not lie. My mother doesn't even know I was seeing you tonight…I am to be engaged in the spring to a,'_ you fill in the proper, reputable profession of honor and wealth, Mary, '_and I would like to keep it that way. You and I are only for tonight, dearest Harry. My parents would never approve of a gentleman with your reputation!"_ Harry whined, doing his best impression of a princess of polite society, who was truly just an easy lay hidden behind her pretty dress and proper etiquette.

"My lovely reputation as a drunk who ruined the virtue of countless innocent girls in my youth, and a drunk, degenerate, disgraced doctor who killed children as I grew older. No wonder I never got married! I'll tell you this much, Mary, if I had a penny for every flirtatious wink I received from the wife of a gentleman as I shook hands with her husband at the tavern, I'd be twice as rich!" Harry took a moment to control his temper that had flared at the thought, and continued on in a more mild tone and peaceful manner, "I wanted to be loved by a woman, just one woman, whom I could care for and adore the same. If children came from that love, well of course I would want them … but, never knowing that love, I never longed for what came after." Harry completed his thought out loud, still holding Mary in his embrace.

"I love you, Harry, just the way you have always wanted, but I can't give you children. Unfortunately, that time for me is long gone. But I would have, Harry, I would have had your children. "

"I know, Mary, and I love you, too. And you never have to worry about giving me children. George has already entrusted me with his children and grandchildren. And I have and will always love them like my own." He kissed her forehead, "Please don't tell Wendy I told you about her, Mary, I gave her my word."

Together, they strolled arm in arm up to the house, directly into Wendy's awaiting embrace. "Merry Christmas, Uncle Harry," Wendy told him warmly, hugging him tightly with tears welling up in her beautiful eyes, the same hue as George's.

"Merry Christmas, Wendy, thank you for inviting me to dinner," he replied still wary of her feelings towards him.

Mary smiled to her daughter, who returned the expression over her uncle's shoulder. "You are family, Uncle Harry, you are always welcome in this home!" Wendy exclaimed, leading him by the arm into the house, "And I think you frightfully silly for not arriving early in the day to see the children open their gifts, especially those they received from you! They have been asking for you all day!"

Christmas dinner was on the table, so once coats and hats were hung by the door, everyone gathered around in their assigned seats and dinner was served. It was glorious, everyone present delighting in their conversations, although no one brought up the offer of engagement. Wendy spoke quietly back and forth at times with James who had read George's letter and replied, "Your father had a fine pen for someone who was blind Wendy …"

After dinner came dessert, and after dessert came presents in the parlor for Uncle Harry from the grandchildren. Jane already called him "Grandpa," or something like it in her baby voice. But her constant repetition of it left Harry no other choice, at least not in his eyes, than to correct her. "No dearest heart, call me--" he started.

"Grandpa Harry," Wendy finished. "Can you say Harry, Jane?" Jane stood up from the floor where she sat, and danced over to her mother. Wendy repeated, "H-A-R-R-Y, now you try." Jane tried and tried and tried, and just like the "Grandpa" it took her forever to say she mastered the "Harry" on the end of it, after several tries. Jane finally got it and began jumping about and cheering for herself that she was able to speak more words that the grownups around her could understand.

"Grandpa Harry and Grandma Mary," Jane proudly presented to those the title belonged to sitting next to each other on the sofa holding hands. "Kissy." The little girl commanded to her grandparents. They didn't, and only kept their faces toward Jane who now pounced shouting excitedly, "Kissy, kissy, kissy, kissy!" over and over again.

Mary and Harry gazed at one another, and then to Wendy, who winked, with, "Well, Mother and Grandpa Harry, your granddaughter is asking for a kiss." Grandpa Harry leaned in to his almost intended and sealed their deal.

The second their lips parted, Wendy spoke up, helping her mother forward to another "anew" with, "I was thinking a spring wedding for the both of you. Best to get you two lovebirds married before there is gossip with the neighbors …"

John and his family stopped by later in the day and congratulated his mother and uncle on their fine match. "Oh course, Mother, I will be paying for the entire wedding," John frankly informed Mary, who was pleasantly surprised by his offer. Harry declined, but John carried on with, "No, I won't hear of it. I do not have any daughters of my own to walk down the aisle, only sons who will walk themselves. Therefore, I should be allowed the honor at least once. And you know the saying; 'the son of the mother who is the bride pays.' "


	76. Chapter 76 Grandpa Harry's Happily Ever...

My Darling Love

Chapter 76 – Grandpa Harry's Happily Ever After

"_Come live with me, and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove."_

_-Christopher Marlowe_

So it was that Harold and Mary were married in the spring. It was supposed to be a small ceremony in the church, with only family and a few close friends. Harry preferred it that way. "Nonsense to have everyone gather in the church if the party doesn't start until later in the evening."

Mary and Wendy knew he was fearful to be under the ever-watchful eye of God, especially in His own house, thus they complied with his request. Mary handwrote the announcements of the marriage and extended the invitation to the reception that was to be held later on in the day to everyone else on the guest list.

But, soon enough calls began, asking for details such as the time of the ceremony and location of the church. No one in the house told the other of the calls, and no one outside of the house told the others inside as well, only giving the information in a soft tone ending with, "It was just supposed to be family, but I'm sure if you crept in, no one will notice." The simple arithmetic of the situation was just that, simple. Not only were their calls to the Dunange home, there were calls to Harry's tavern and James' carpenter shop. The grocer heard from the florist, who asked the neighbor living down the street. The butcher told the baker who told the candlestick maker who told his mother, a very old friend of Aunt Millicent's who told everyone else, of course.

A small ceremony indeed, the church was packed to the rafters when John led Mary down the aisle to the front where Harold Darling waited. She wore a simple dress of antique white, proper and pretty for a woman of her age and station in life. She carried with her red roses in full bloom, Harry's favorite. And the kiss that came at the end, began at the beginning, as John gave Mary's hand to her fiancée. "I've never seen you more beautiful than today, Mary."

The party for the new couple that was to commence in the evening now followed immediately after at H.J.B. Tavern celebrating the marriage of the new Mr. and Mrs. Harold Darling. Masses of family and friends piled in and danced the day and night away. They ate, drank and made merry while family and friends also present in heaven watched down on all the fun and amusement, with smiles at first, George included. But as the hours dragged on and it grew closer to the time when Mary and Harry were to depart for their own adventure, a grand honeymoon across the sea in Ireland, the sadder faces bowed out, leaving only George and Grandpa Joe still on their clouds above. Wendy was suddenly dismayed as well when Mary and Harry waved good-bye and took off in their car.

"No more will my father be my mother's only lover," Wendy said to James as they retired to bed, hoping Captain Hook would correct her mistake. He said nothing except, "I don't think people that age still make love, Wendy, I wouldn't be too concerned."

But people that age did still make love. Although Uncle Harry was not expecting it when he and Mary retired to their private cabin on the ship giving them passage. He dressed in his pajamas and climbed into bed under the blankets and waited as she readied herself behind the curtain in their room giving her privacy. She slipped out from behind it in a lovely white silk gown and robe decorated with layers of ruffles and lace down the front she had purchased herself for this special night. She gingerly slipped the robe from her shoulders and climbed into bed under the covers as well. "I've never slept in the same bed with a woman before," Harry offered as their eyes met.

"It will be lovely, I promise. The warmth next to you in bed will give you the sweetest dreams…" she whispered, leaning into him for a kiss that never came. "I don't think we should … make love Mary … it just doesn't seem right," Harry stuttered, pulling his lips far away from hers.

"You don't want to have me in your bed?" Mary replied with a mildly surprised expression. "You don't want to make love to me? I don't understand."

"No, I do, but I will not force you to. I know you are a good woman, and will be a fine wife, but … if you prefer I can just take a girl on the side or something…so as not to bother you with a man's needs in that way..." Harry lowered his head shamefully and at the same time quite disheartened at his own words as he spoke and anxiously moved to turn off the light.

The moon shone through the window as Mary nestled up against him as his body was turned away from her. "Harry, you would never have to force me, and it would be far from a bother. After all, I have needs as well. If you are to be my husband and I am to be your wife until death parts us, then I should be your only lover. If you are asking my permission to commit adultery, then I must tell you this very night, my answer is no. If you are telling me your intention is to commit adultery, then I must ask, why did you ask to marry me in the first place? It's my scar isn't it? I know I am not as beautiful as other women less my age …"

Harry turned to face Mary, as she insulted not only herself, but him also, lessening the idea of her own beauty. "Oh no, you are the most beautiful creature, Mary and there is no one else that I would rather spend the rest of my years with. And your scar, Mary, that never bothered me, not in the least." He took both her hands in his and kissed them. "I want to make love to you very much, but I feel as though I am taking something from you that is not mine to have. That I am unworthy of you … I have been with a lot of women … so many, Mary, I can't even begin to count let alone name… I'm still surprised in all my years and worldly experiences I never caught anything from the type of ladies I spent my time with… Anyway, it would be horrible to make you one of them again … What people will say about you, taking to bed with a man like me."

Mary leaned toward Harry, smiling with her mocking mouth. His last sentiment was so ridiculous she actually had to laugh. "Harry we are married now, and married people make love. And NO ONE will think less of me, being your wife. If others didn't approve of our union -- and it's not like I really care about what others think -- but still, if they didn't, I doubt the church would have been overflowing with family and friends! Really, Harry! There must have been at least a thousand people making merry! They were there for us!" Mary ran her hand down his face, changing her voice to a more sincere and loving tone.

"What I have is mine to give Harold Darling, and I want to give it to you. I don't care that you've been with other women, as long as I am the only woman you are to be with now. I love you. Please do not share yourself with another. I don't only want us to be man and wife. I want us to be lovers as well. Please, Harold, do not take another."

Harry nodded his head very sternly, "After you, Mary, there could never be another."

Mary moved in to steal a kiss, but Harry rolled in his lips, "What of George, Mary?" Harry asked.

Mary pulled back and her and folded her arms in front of her. "Harry, you must allow George to rest in peace. Neither one of us deserves to live in constant comparison with him. I will never tell you how George would act in a certain situation, and I expect you to never tell me how I would act if I were with him. We are husband and wife now, you and I. In order to have a life as one, we must still keep him in our hearts but out of the daily lives we share. And Harry, George must certainly be kept out of our bed. Do you not agree?"

He did agree, therefore, he added just for good measure, "I love you, Mary," before thieving a kiss from her lips before she thought it possible, making her giggle. "I have always loved you, Mary. I am going to make you very happy and treat you like a queen, I promise." He kissed her once more, more passionately than before, and Mary pulled him into her embrace. "I love you too, Harry, and I also promise to make you happy and treat you like a king."

"Do you remember the last time we wanted to make love, Mary?" Harry asked, touching his fingertips to her lips. "Do you remember what I told you before it happened?"

Mary rested down and leaned her head on his arm. "Hmm …" she thought about it and smiled. "The day you took me Christmas shopping that very fateful year long ago. It was that night, after dinner, on the drive home. You kissed me to stop me from crying. You told me you were thankful I met George, and married him, and had his children. You told me you would always be there for me, even if that meant only being my friend. In you, I would always be able to find my strength to go on. And if I remember correctly, we didn't make love that night, for we both agreed we could not betray George in that way. The devil we could betray, but not my darling love. But you did admit that one day, at least once more, you were sure we would make love again. Even if you had to wait forever." Mary sat up and slid off her nightgown leaving herself revealed before him. "Make love to me, Harry. This is the night we've waited for."

He shifted over to her, also removing his pajamas, kissing her neck and shoulders as he did. "You are the only woman I have ever loved and made love to in my life, Mary," he whispered as they embraced and began.

Together in their bed, they consummated their marriage. And as Harry unlocked Mary, his key a perfect fit in her lock, Mary did think of George, but only at two stolen moments. The first came as Harry confessed Mary always had his heart. She thought of George's affair and his reasoning "It is not possible to _make_ love to someone you do _not_ love." All the others Harry had did not matter, for he only loved Mary. The second came at the moment Harry reached his end, and emptied his seed inside of her for the first time in all their encounters. Before, at the time their affair, he removed himself and completed on her belly, habit for him really, but more out of respect to his brother, even if at the time, it was not truly George, but the devil acting in his place. Now, he lingered within her, whispering, "I know you think me silly for saying this, but I wish I could stay inside of you like this forever. I hope you don't mind."

Mary didn't think Harry silly, nor did she mind. That is what again made her think of George. For George had left himself inside of her and made three babies, the real roses of her life in full bloom that were seeded long ago in the garden of her womanhood. As they later rested, cuddled together, drifting off into their slumber, Mary shed one tear for her George. In her mind she saw him leave the shadows and walk into the moonlight away from her bed and her life, taking with him a piece of her heart.

Only once since Mary made her promise to be with him in heaven and confess her sins did George cry, and that was the day Mary married another, and took his brother in his place. The night of her wedding, as Harry and Mary went to bed to make love, Wendy cried as well, knowing just like Queen Mary and the Peasant George in reverse, although her mother was her father's first, last and only love, he would never receive the same honor. And that in the eyes of God was fair play. George felt the same but got an unexpected relief of his tears when Mary dreamt.

George's heart that still beat within his soul out of the blue became much lighter, yet filled with more emotion than he ever had experienced in his life. "That's the piece of Mary's heart, the piece that holds some of your love for her. She gave it back to you, to make room for Harry's love. You will have to give it back to her, though, it's just to tide you over until her time comes," Grandpa Joe informed George as he began to unknowingly drift off his cloud in heaven.

"Can I go get her now?" George shouted, as he was air born floating away.

"Not yet, George, but soon."

Mary and Harry spent a month in Ireland, and returned to begin their life together anew. And as a belated wedding present to the newlywed couple, later that same year, on Christmas morning, there came a baby girl her parents named Georgeanne. Different from Wendy's other three precious babies, who had dark cascades of curls and eyes as blue as forget-me-nots, her newborn, fathered by James Dunange, would be the only one of her children with glorious strawberry golden locks, straight as an arrow, and hazel eyes.

"Georgeanne is my mother's -- I mean, your wife's favorite name," Wendy informed her Uncle Harry, as he held his newest granddaughter in his arms, closest to his heart. "I know, Wendy, it is mine as well."

**George Frederick Darling  
****_Beloved Father & Loving Husband  
_**_**If ever two were one, then surely we  
****If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.**_

Mary knelt down at George's grave with Jane, now a girl of twelve, and her twin brothers a year younger than she. "This is Grandpa George's favorite flower," Mary said, placing pink roses in full bloom on the earth above where his body rested in peace below. All three children knelt before his headstone and said a little prayer, then took to their feet, starting for home with their grandmother in tow.

They raced up the stairs and into the house knocking "Grandpa Harry," as he was called, off his feet and onto the sofa. "Tell us a story, Grandpa," they gleefully exclaimed, and he pulled them close into his chest, and began, "There was once a pretty princess named Jane who had twin brothers, both princes named Oscar and Larry…"

James and Wendy's two sons jerked their heads up and shouted the clarification of, "Our names are William and Christopher!" Grandpa Harry nodded his mistake, "Oh I'm sorry boys. I thought this was my story."

"Me too, me too!!!!" Georgeanne shouted running from the kitchen where Wendy was baking cookies, brushing past Mary, who was heading up the stairs to be alone in her room. Even now married to another, she still set aside an hour a day just for George. She made her way to her bedroom, the nursery as it once had been; now her and Harry's bedchamber, and took a seat on her very own favorite rocking chair which James, her son-in-law had crafted for her. There she sat and talked to George's painting in privacy. Footsteps above her head let her know Wendy and James' children were up in the attic, the new nursery, a room transformed just for them by their father.

A knock on the door told her of the time, and four heads peeking in meant George's hour of company with his wife were up. George smiled down to her in her aged splendor, and took his leave as Mary allowed them in to join her. "Tell us a story, Grandma." Mary smiled, and rested her head back. "Did not your grandfather just tell you one?"

"Yes, but he told us to ask you for the happy ending …"

Mary did as George asked, she loved, and she was happy in her life and lived long enough to see their children's children's children, almost all of them, in fact. John and his wife had six boys total, two of Caroline's from her deceased husband, whose names had been changed to Darling when they were adopted. Two sons John had fathered with Margaret, and two more sons they shared together. Each son grew up, got married and had sons of the their own, three in fact, each. George's father never need worry that the fine name of Darling would die away, for it would live on in eighteen youngsters running about, creating their own havoc.

Wendy and James had two girls: Jane the eldest and Georgeanne the youngest. Let's not forget their identical twin boys they named William and Christopher, bound by the vocation of priest since birth. Jane and Georgeanne grew up, living in George's house with their brothers, experiencing all the magic and love found within. They too, Jane and Georgeanne, married, and Mary sat alongside both the man who replaced Captain Hook on earth for Wendy, and her own husband Harold. James walked his daughters down the aisle and gave them away to men who were employed, oddly enough, as a bank clerks. Jane and Georgeanne both chose a different path than their mother and grandmother before them, they both wore white on their wedding days and deservedly so.

Mary and Harry shared many years as husband and wife, and they had days that were filled with contentment and love. A perfect replacement and fair trade for George, Harry took his place beside Mary and made God proud each and every day. Mary had a true companion and lover that loved her with all his heart, and dedicated the rest of his life to her. He never strayed to another, and stayed with her through good times and bad, sickness and health, richer and poorer, intending to keep on that way until death parted them. Mary felt the same, and was thankful that God always kept her in the corner of His eye, so she did her best to make enough room in her heart for its new resident. There was plenty of room and then some, and all involved were sure neither Harry nor Mary would ever die alone and unloved.

Georgeanne's first wedding anniversary was a day of celebration, her family not only toasting their first year of wedded bliss, but also the birth of her first and only child she named Susan. It was an arduous delivery, and her husband decided one child would be plenty for them to handle on his meager salary, not to mention the difficulty she had giving the baby life. He said it and meant and there were to be no more. Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling-Darling sat with her family in their formal parlor, Georgeanne and husband living in George's house, saving for their own, and raised their glasses to thank God for all his love and guidance throughout the years. If George were still alive, he and Mary would have celebrated their anniversary that same day, but alas, he wasn't, he was waiting in heaven for his beloved.

Mary was never at a loss for admirers while on earth, and it seems it was to be no different in heaven. Harry Darling died after battling a horrible cold that left him sick in bed for weeks. Quite peculiar indeed, it was the only time in his life he was ever sick. And through it all, Mary never left his side, reciting to him at least one thousand times on his final day, "I love you."

It was difficult to bury George, and remembering what it is was like for their mother, her children feared her mourning for Grandpa Harry, especially after helplessly watching him suffer his illness. Mary dressed in black and buried her husband as he asked, right beside her father, Joseph Baker.

Although she did cry many tears before his funeral mass, she stood tall and full of pride just for him, and held up others who faltered as his coffin was lowered, just like he asked her to. She graciously declined an invitation from Biggins Fisher, now too a recent widower, who asked her out to dinner after Harry rested peacefully beneath the ground. She returned to her home where she had spent her entire life, retiring to her room alone.

The promises she made to George, she kept and would continue to keep. She wept for her Harry, but it was not the same loss she felt for her George. She knelt down as best she could, now being well over eighty, and prayed, "Dearest Lord, please have mercy on Harry, he was a good husband to me and a good father and grandfather and great-grandfather to my children. I love him so much, and I am thankful for our time together. Forgive me for saying this, but I do mean it, I do hope to see him in heaven, but my George, and my George alone, is whom I want to spend my eternity with."

Mary felt guilty and selfish, she worried that Harry deserved better than the best that she had given him, and so she stayed in her room and cried. For what, even God did not know, he thought she did a fine job as Harry's wife. Thus, He sent her a message from a messenger He knew to be her favorite, reminding her of all the unknowns in life and in death, and that they were to remain unknown, at least for now.

"You know, Madam, a wise man once said, heaven will be no heaven if I do not meet my wife there." Captain James Hook, as much of a dread pirate as he had always been offered to Mary as she knelt nearest her bedside, he in her rocking chair. "What would it have been, Madam, almost seventy years with George?"

Mary nodded her head, but would not turn to see him only joking, "You know how old that makes me?"

Captain Hook extended his lower lip and raised his brow, moving from his relaxed position forward onto the chair, "Not as old as I," he retorted causing her to giggle.

She finally rose to greet him and brushed her lips to his cheek with tears in her eyes, "George will not recognize me when he sees me in heaven, probably flirting with all the young ladies up there lying around of puffy clouds in their pretty dresses. He's probably angry I was so happy with Harry. I hope they shook hands like gentlemen when they met and did not raise fists."

"Why would he by angry, Madam? You did all that he asked of you," Captain Hook replied gazing adoringly at her aged yet youthful appearance.

"Until death parts us, that is what the vows said, and now there are two that have been parted from me. But it was the first that has always been the hardest to bear."

Captain Hook wiped the tear that ran down her cheek, and smiled tenderly to her, like he once had when sent to protect her, "There are vows made, Madam, that not even death, devil or God himself can break. And if I am correct, the last time I saw George earlier in the day, he was waiting with his face pressed to the pearly gates for the time when St. Peter calls for him to retrieve you."

"And what of Harry?"

"Madam," James spoke softly leaning into her, "God sends those who have completed all that is asked of them fairly and with honor, onward to another place not even I am aware of. Do not worry after him; it was you that aided him in accomplishing all his tasks and lessons on earth, and now God is surely granting him his greatest reward. And I have it from the highest authority, he will not be lonely in heaven, apparently there was a young maiden named Lorraine awaiting him there. And don't be jealous, Madam, the poor girl has been waiting forever."

"And Gwendolyn …" as Mary spoke her name Captain Hook lowered his head, he too not without his tears. "She never forgave herself for the loss of you on this earth."

Captain Hook took Mary's hand in his own and kissed it. In a kind and loving voice he offered, "I am here with her always, Madam. She has here, on this earth, my spirit living on in my children who are real. I'm not sure you've noticed, Madam, in your old age, but only three of her four children, Jane, Christopher and William, are mine. Georgeanne belongs to her husband and still, she loves all four of them the same. That proves she has forgiven herself, she has just yet to forget. Soon we will be together again, but not too soon."

He stepped away from her and bowed. "You have more tasks to complete before you are released of this burden called life on earth. You must help my Gwendolyn live her life here on earth … so she may live on in the afterlife."

Mary suddenly stood alone in her bedroom. Captain Hook had gone as if he had never been there in the first place. Mary wanted to see George at that very moment, and so she turned on her heel and ran to her bedroom door, throwing it open. "Wendy!" Mary called out, and fearing her mother's sorrow had made her suicidal, Wendy came running.

"Yes, Mother!" she shouted as she dashed into the room, knocking Mary off her feet. Wendy pulled her mother up and fell into Mary's embrace. Now that she had her daughter's undivided attention and not wanting to waste another second away from George, she simple asked, "Wendy, do you love your husband James?"

Wendy pulled back with a curious expression, "Of course I do, why do you ask?"

"I just think sometimes you don't," Mary replied, giving her famous mocking mouth an upturned grin.

Wendy began shaking her head quickly, "No, Mother, I love him so much. I am thankful that we are together and have beautiful children, and now grandchildren. Can you believe it, Mother? Me, a grandmother! Oh Mother, our adventures together, I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world." Her voice was sincere, but still something was amiss.

"Not even for Captain Hook?"

Wendy stuttered, not knowing how to respond. She rocked on her toes and heels, and shifted about uncomfortably on her feet. Mary still smiled and opened her arms again for a weepy Wendy to step into for comfort. She did and whispered into Mary's ear, "Not here on Earth, but in heaven…" Wendy had tears in her eyes, but Mary stopped the downpour with one sentiment she herself had just been informed of, "You will be with him in heaven, not yet, but soon.

"But James, Mother? I don't want him to be alone in heaven."

Mary gave it some thought, listening to her heart within her. It told her all she needed to know to answer her daughter correctly, "God sends those who have completed all that is asked of them fairly and with honor onward to another place not even you or I am aware of. Do not worry after him; it was you that aided him in accomplishing all his tasks and lessons on earth. When it is his time, God will surely grant him the greatest reward. And a man as handsome as your husband will not be without his admirers in heaven."

Wendy stayed with Mary for some time, enjoying each other's company, sharing stories of all the good years that had past. When night fell, Wendy left Mary alone, and she gazed at the portrait of George that hung above her writing desk. Mary had it moved from above her bed once Harry moved in, out of respect to him and their marriage. It was still in perfect condition, kept that way by Wendy, who, through the years, restored the parts that had aged. She put a single pink rose for their new great-granddaughter, Susan, who was to be baptized in the church the next morning on the desktop. She moved to her vanity, and opened her drawer of dreams. There inside were George's spectacles, pocket watch and wedding band that were held on a gold chain with her matching band.

Mary removed Harry's wedding and engagement rings, and placed only her wedding band from him gently on a chain of its own, leaving the engagement ring resting on the glass top. She did as he asked in death as well, and buried him with his gold wedding ring he wished not to be parted from. _"I waited my whole life to be called husband by a woman that loved me, I want the reminder of it with me always, even when I am gone."_ Mary took back the ring George chose for his wife, still a perfect fit on her finger and followed it with Harry's ring of engagement.

As if George were in the room with her, as she readied for bed she spoke to him. "You would not believe the audacity of Biggins Fishers, George. He tottered up to me, now older than dirt, and asked me out to dinner. I wanted to tell him I was not accepting applications for a third husband, but I did not want to make a scene. Anyway, I hope you were polite to Harry when he arrived in heaven and showed him around. And, George, I'd best find you still up there when I am called. I will be so cross if an angel tells me you were kicked out for fighting! I am not going to worry, I know you were a gentleman and gave Harry a handshake and thanked him for taking care of me and the children."

Mary climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. She glanced over to her desk, and was reminded of the rose and its intention to her. "The rose is for Susan, Georgeanne's baby. She is to be christened tomorrow. It was to be done sooner, but then Harry…got ill…"

Her voice failed her, and she paused, wiping away a few tears before going on, "Anyway George, she is a lovely thing, all wrapped up in a pink blanket. Looks a lot like Wendy did when she was a baby. It's a shame Georgeanne and her husband won't have any more children though. She had a worse time then I did with Michael, thank God medicine is different nowadays. That makes nineteen great-grandchildren, George; well twenty if you count the one Jane carries now."

Mary rolled on her side and stared at George in the portrait, again remembering something else she wanted to tell him. "Oh yes, I almost forgot, George, it is actually to be twenty one great grandchildren for us. George's wife is also pregnant again. You'll think me silly for saying this, but every time John speaks of his youngest, I think he is talking about you. Sometimes he'll say, 'Mother, George will be stopping by later for a visit,' and I'll wait on the front porch hoping that you'll drive up in the car. He's handsome, though, but not as handsome as you. His wife is due in the summer, and if you ask me the way those boys compete with one another, there will be a whole another round of more babies born in the fall. So I won't expect to see you for a while. Well, I'm going to sleep now. Sweet dreams, George, I love you, and I miss you. Good night, my darling love."

Mary closed her eyes opening them a moment later. "If you don't mind, George, I would also like to talk with Harry too, just now and again. It is after all, only fair, my love. If you wouldn't mind giving us a moment of privacy now, George..." Mary asked politely and waited in silence for a few moments.

George in heaven sat next to his brother Harold on a cloud. With Mary's words, George took his leave, giving his brother a smile and a handshake.

And so, they were alone, Harold, in heaven, gazed down adoringly to Mary, tucked snuggly in her bed as she said, "Sweet dreams, dearest Harry, I miss you. I love you. Good night, my darling love."


	77. Chapter 77 Immortal Beloved

_Author's note: This is not the last chapter, seems inspiration has hit, thus there is one last after this. And then, the end, I promise._

My Darling Love

Chapter 77 – Immortal Beloved

_"It never came about. There we have no free will.  
At the one place of experience where we are most at mercy, and where the decision will alter us to the end of our days, our destination is fixed.  
We are elected into love."_

_- Christopher Fry_

Mary awoke in the morning and went on to greet another day without George, just like he asked. Harry asked her for the same, so now she went on for the both of them.

Christmas was upon them once again. Mary, Wendy and Georgeanne all dressed on Christmas Eve and readied themselves for dinner at John's house to welcome in the season. Mary wore her finest dress of the softest pink, a tad out of date for the times, but timeless for a lady such as herself. She accentuated the gown with a necklace Harold had given her many years ago, her favorite. She also wore her hair clip, the gift from her father and the diamond broche of her grandmother's. Ever present on her ring finger was her George's wedding band, and Harry's engagement ring as well.

"My, my, my, don't you look like a queen going to the ball?" Wendy, busy checking her own reflection in her bedroom, teased as her mother entered, dressed and ready to leave. Wendy turned around to gaze at Mary and bowed respectfully to her mother, the Queen, "You look lovely, your Majesty..."

"Oh yes, as do you, your highness…" Mary jested, curtseying gracefully in response to her daughter's mockery.

"I don't remember hearing you knock, Mother," Wendy retorted, with Mary smiling as mother and daughter met in an embrace, "I love you, Mother."

Mary fixed a few strands of hair off Wendy's face; her daughter's glorious locks now turned shimmering silver. "I love you, too, Gwendolyn Angelina."

Wendy turned toward the door, shouting, "James is bringing around the car, Mother, make sure you grab your shawl, it's cold outside."

Mary Elizabeth Darling went into her own bedroom, straight to the wardrobe and took out the shawl that perfectly matched her dress. She stood once again at her mirror and gazed at her face, once exquisite now covered by wrinkles, her beautiful perfection erased. She moved gingerly to her vanity table and rested there, suddenly out of breath, holding her head in her hands. The air she needed returned to her suddenly, although she obviously had not caught sight of her own reflection, for Mary only wiped her nose on her handkerchief and stood up.

Had she only glanced in the mirror, she would have seen a perfectly mocking mouth on her flawlessly lovely face. It was the body and beauty of a woman eighteen years old, going off on her awfully big adventure of wife and mother, now returned in full glory as it once had been long ago. Instead of looking in the mirror, she looked towards the door of her room. The very distinct sound of pebbles hitting glass echoed throughout the upstairs. Hearing this, Mary rushed, rather annoyed at her family's impatience, to Wendy's room, the bedroom that had once been her own long ago.

Mary went to the window and looked out. She was about to shout down she was coming in a moment, "keep your bloomers on," Mary mumbled as she threw open the shades. But it was not the car packed and ready to go to John's home for the holiday she saw. There, in the moonlight, was her George, dark-haired and handsome, dressed the same as the day she first ran away to be with him forever.

"Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, I love you and I want to spend my eternity in heaven with you. I'm sorry death had to part us for a short time, but if you like, I can take you now to a place where we will never have to be parted again. We, together, will never have to fret about -- well, Mary -- anything ever again. We will live in peace, happiness, and harmony, with sunshine and new days, new tomorrows and endless dreams and wishes that always come true. These are the rewards in heaven we have earned, dear Mary, and there is more, so much more, and I simply cannot wait another moment to share them with you, forever! Although, if you want to celebrate these joys alone in heaven, I will understand and leave after I take you there. But my heart will never able to beat again if I didn't at least ask you to reconsider..."

"GEORGE!" Mary shouted, "I'M COMING, GEORGE! WAIT! I LOVE YOU! I HAVE BEEN WAITING!" after throwing open the windows. "ME TOO!" George yelled back, but before he could say another word, Mary fled the sill.

She danced about the room overjoyed, and went to check her face in the mirror. The smile she wore as she heard her George's speech and her celebration faded, as she called to mind her elderly state, and George's youthful appearance returned. _"Oh no, he'll never want to stay with me now, for I am old…"_ she thought, but Mary need not worry, nor frown, for her face and figure were just as perfect as his. As a matter of fact, as she finally gathered the courage to open her eyes before Wendy's bedroom mirror, she realized she was no longer wearing pink. Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling was dressed in an imperial gown of heavenly white, complete with a jeweled crown that decorated her lovely long brunette locks. Cinderella indeed, in the flesh, she literally sparkled as she twirled about.

"**_Your Majesty, Queen Mary, are you not forgetting something … or someone who is waiting?" _**God in heaven reminded, smiling just as happily as she. **_"Oh, how I do love a very happy ending..."_**

"GEORGE!" Mary yelped, "I DIDN"T FORGET YOU, GEORGE! I COULD NEVER FORGET YOU! I LOVE YOU! DON'T GO! PLEASE!"

Mary ran to the window and stared down at the street. George was gone … from the street, at least. He now stood at the bottom of the rose trellis, about to fly up to the window to retrieve her, Mary was certain. Only he didn't fly, he climbed.

"Don't come down, Mary!" he shouted with a bouquet of pink roses in hand, "I'm coming up!" He stuck the flowers in his teeth and valiantly scaled the trellis full of more pink roses in full blooms, which in reality were already gone for the winter.

"What is taking grandmother so long?" Georgeanne asked from the back seat, annoyed that Mary was taking the longest to get ready. Everyone else, with the exception of Wendy, was getting irritable, for without her great-grandmother, Susan was a difficult baby to appease. Suddenly and without reason, as they waited, she began to cry, and was now inconsolable, lacking the comfort she longed for from Mary, who still had not come.

"I'll go get her," Wendy replied as she got out of the car and headed into the house. She called up the stairs and got no reply, taking a moment to close her eyes and think deeply over the silence that stilled the house. Before she took to the stairs, she called out once more, "Your Majesty, your chariot awaits!" She still heard no reply so she quickly bounded the steps as fast a woman in her sixties could.

Wendy knew the rules, so she knocked at her mother's bedroom door and waited. She was not really concerned about her mother's condition; only thinking Mary was becoming a little deaf in her old age. She opened the door yelling her warning in joking manner, "I hope you are decent, Mother, for I don't want to see you in your bloomers."

Wendy found her mother, Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling-Darling, wrapped in her shawl lying on the floor next to her vanity as if she had fallen from the chair while resting there. Wendy moved to her quickly and rolled her over, pressing her ear to her mother's chest to hear her heart beat. The stillness that claimed the house had also claimed her heart. Wendy broke down into weeping for as she called out, "How will I go on without you, Mother!"

That is how Wendy's family found her a short time later.

Mary was laid to rest right beside George in the church cemetery. She left no will, only a very short and simple letter attached to George's. _"Dearest children, please pray for me, your father, our family already called to rest, and most importantly, each other, still here on Earth. Keep us safely in your heart. If ever you want to see us, go there. If you ever want to speak with us, talk. We will listen in heaven for you, even if we are silent. All the love in my heart I shall bring with me, and that love and my family will reign with me in heaven forever. Your mother."_

Of all of those Wendy lost in her lifetime; her mother's passing was the hardest to live through. Even with her devoted and loving husband beside her, her children and grandchildren, Wendy still suffered. She sat in her mother's room and stared at the portrait she had painted of George in the street with Mary in the window. It had been years since she had put paint to canvas, but with no other outlet, she hid herself, day in and day out, in the old nursery, and finally, after much consideration, reconstructed another similar scene from her imagination.

In Wendy's portrait, George and Mary stood together on the street where George had once stood alone, she in her mother's wedding dress, George in his suit. They were embracing, their lips pressed together in a kiss with Mary holding one arm down still clutching her bouquet of pink roses in bloom. The door to the Darling house was open, and in the doorway stood Grandpa Joe and his wife Elizabeth Baker, arm in arm, smiling adoringly toward the couple in the street. Aunt Millicent stood behind them, peeking over an immensely excited Uncle Harry's shoulder, with a curious expression as to what all the fuss was about. Replacing Mary in the window was Michael; standing with Penny and her daughter Margaret, also beaming with joy, smiling down to the happy couple that not even death could part.

This is the portrait that now hangs above the fireplace for all who visited to see. "One day, Wendy, they will hang it in a museum," James commented, appraising the work. After all these years, the dread pirate captain was still absent from him. And it made Wendy suffer all the more, for this was time when she needed his comfort and love the most. At night when she said her prayers, she would always add, just in case God was keeping her in the corner of His eye as well, "If I could just speak to Captain Hook once more, please. I need him now, Dearest Lord."

Wendy and James were soon alone in the Dunange home. Georgeanne and her husband moved out and onward to their own home. Soon Mr. and Mrs. Dunange reasoned they should sell to make way for bigger and better things, as the world around them changed. But for now, they would be content to savor their days and their elder years in the house that had brought them the most joys in their lives.

Weeks turned into months and months into years. James died after a long and very happy life, and left Wendy to herself. Old and alone, but loved just the same by her family that visited with her often.

There, by herself in her home that had once been her father's and grandfather's, she found within her the courage to collect James' things together. With his personal effects sorted and given amongst her children, she decided it was time to dismantle her mother's room, as she had left it untouched in time, and gather up her personal belongings as well. "I think I shall make this a sitting room until we sell the house," she informed her oldest daughter Jane, who agreed.

Jane came every day to see her mother without fail. Just like Mary before her, Wendy and Jane were now best friends. Wendy would gaze at Jane in awe, for in her daughter's adult life, she held the closet resemblance to her pirate captain. If there could be a true female version of Captain Hook, it would be without a doubt his only daughter, Jane. From her height, tall and commanding, to her hair and eyes, identical in hues, to her wise and knowledgeable mind, all the way to her kind and forgiving heart. Jane was James Hook on earth. Wendy always looked forward to her stopping by each day, and this day was no different. Jane arrived for her normal visit and helped her mother sort out all of Mary's things.

Strangely, there were certain things Wendy was afraid to find, for she knew the memories they would resurrect that had been lost in time. "My father's spectacles are missing. My mother always said he would be cross with her when they met in heaven for not burying them with him. I always said he would be more upset she took his wedding band and pocket watch," Wendy explained to her daughter with a smile.

"I can't find Grandpa Harry's engagement ring to Grandma Mary either. I hope it was not stolen," Jane commented searching through Mary's priceless treasures. "Or Grandpa George's wedding band for that matter. Did you not just say mother, she did not bury it with him? His pocket watch is not here either for that matter. Do you think you were robbed?"

Wendy shook her head. "I probably buried them with my mother, yes, now that I think of it, I'm sure I did," Wendy spoke up after searching through her mother's vanity table for the items. "In her letter she asked that I place in her coffin, my father's personal effects as well as Grandpa Harry's.Your Uncle John said I was foolish, but those were my mother's wishes..."With that matter cleared up, there was another.

In the last place she looked, her mother's drawer of dreams, she found the novel Wendy had written decades before. Printed across the front page in Mary's pen was, _"Wendy, now that you have a new beginning, and almost an ending, you should finish it. I wrote some notes to guide you along. But please end it happily and with a kiss. My father once told me, people like to hear about kissing. Mother."_

"You wrote this?" Jane asked looking over her mother's shoulder.

Wendy quickly clutched it to her chest. "Yes, but only my mother and I have read it. It isn't very good. I wanted to be a novelist in my younger days."

Jane asked if she could have the honor, but Wendy declined, "No, it gives all the secrets of my heart I do not wish to share."

"Will you at least share the name, Mother?" Jane asked, disappointed that her mother had secrets she was not privy to. Seeing that in her daughter's face, and remembering her own frustration regarding Mary's mysteries, Wendy glanced to the cover. Again in Mary's pen, she had titled it for her Wendy, _'This was the best I could come up with, but it is a simple title for such a magnificent tale, my dearest Gwendolyn. You may want to use another name, more fanciful…'_

"It's called, _The Pirate Princess_, my mother named it for me."

"You know, Mother, I don't think you should sell this house. My family will move back in here with you so you are not alone. Yes, Mother, that is best. After all, this is our family's home. Too many good things have happened here to let it be torn down and forgotten …"

**George Frederick Darling**  
_**Beloved Father & Loving Husband  
**__**If ever two were one, then surely we  
**__**If ever man were loved by wife, then thee**._

**Mary Elizabeth Darling  
****_The Queen of Hearts  
_****_Adoring Wife, Devoted Mother_**

Wendy knelt before her parents' grave and rested her completed novel, titled and printed, in front of her mother's headstone. "Thank you for the name which fits my fairy tale quite well. This copy is for you, Mother and you too father. It's published now, and quite the best seller! _'What fanciful fiction!'_ John, my overly impressed brother, commented after reading it, Caroline said he couldn't put it down. _'Goodness, Wendy, to think my sister in her old age has finally achieved her dream of being the author of trashy romance novels. At least there is sword fighting to distract the reader from all the kissing! It's rather scandalous, dear sister, are you not afraid of what the neighbors will think?'_ That's how your son teased me before asking me to autograph his copy. If he only knew the truth of the story … if he only remembered … But that is neither here nor there now. This," Wendy spoke as she touched her fingertips over the lovely cover, illustrating a fair maiden being embraced from behind by a dreaded pirate captain, whom at the moment, in the picture, was adoringly kissing her neck. "This is my beloved immortality in print …"

Wendy stood and adjusted her dress, and as she turned to go, she softly made one last request to her own immortal, beloved Mother, "I know you are busy up there in heaven, but I need a favor, Mother. I do not think God really listens when I pray. If you would be so kind to ask Him for me -- using your lovely smile you wear so well -- if he could send Captain Hook down to me. Only for a few minutes, please. There are things I need to say to go on, that I could never say to James. Please, for me."

Mary was listening, as was God. Thus she turned to Him and smiled just like Wendy asked and He, almighty and merciful smiled back the same and replied, **_"Not yet, Your Majesty, but soon."_**

Mary Elizabeth Darling had a daughter named Wendy and Wendy had a daughter named Jane, and Jane had a daughter named Harriet, to honor the very deserving Harold Darling. Harriet grew up, fell madly in love and without any trouble or heartache, married a fine young man by the name of Sir Edgar Fisher. It was love at first sight, and Edgar and Harriet, hopefully devoted to one another, had the largest, grandest and most exquisite wedding that most in London (or anywhere else in the world) had ever seen. And that was just the beginning of their fairy tale. Now, Edgar was great-grandson, and only remaining heir of Lord Biggins Fisher, Esquire, to be exact. Thus, one can imagine the hysterics in heaven as Harriet had a daughter she insisted on naming Mary Elizabeth. And so there was on Earth, finally, a Mary Elizabeth Fisher, and she was just as lovely as her great-great grandmother before her.

The warm sun beat down on a grassy countryside, a towering medieval castle stood far off in the distance with a moat of hot molten lava that ran up from beneath the ground encompassing it. Peter Pan flew overhead with a little girl, landing on a cloud as near as safely possible, but still miles away. "That is the castle of the dread queen. There is not another soul in the entire universe that is more feared. She knows dark and horrible magic and is not afraid to use it. I have been at war with her for a very long time, and someday I will defeat her. For I am boy and boys are stronger than girls!" he commanded, raising his sword, scaring the poor girl.

To prove his point correct, that the dreaded queen was just as evil, nasty and merciless as he described, Peter Pan showed the little girl countless scars, abrasions, scald marks and injuries he had sustained at her hand since the moment their game of 'war' had begun. "GOODNESS!" the little girl gasped, "Do they hurt?" She asked gently touching the marks with her delicate hands. Peter Pan gave the little girl his sincerest look of humbled sorrow mixed with odd trepidation, showing not only the little girl, but God Himself who looked down from the heavens, that this was the only soul the boy who refused to grow up was ever truly afraid of. Therefore, he nodded his head and replied, "They hurt worse now, than when she gave them to me…."

"Is she ugly?" the little girl asked, "I mean a person that can do this to a little boy must be very ugly," she further reasoned.

"Yes, very ugly, hideous. One look at her and you die instantly!" he swiftly answered.

Peter took flight again and landed with the child in the forest just outside the castle. "Why are we here? Why can't we just play like you promised?" the small, terrified child asked.

"Because this is her kingdom and the rule is all new children who wish to live within it must be shown to her, or else…" Peter declared, standing proudly with his arms crossed. Peter yanked the little girl up onto a rock they stood near and shouted, "HERE QUEEN MARTINE! I HAVE BROUGHT YOUR ANOTHER LITTLE GIRL, SINCE YOU SEEM TO BE SO FOND OF THEM! I DARE YOU TO CATCH US!"

She could not be seen from where she stood, atop the highest lookout point on the highest tower of the castle, but she was there. A tall slender woman, dressed in head to toe black and red velvet, attire fit for royalty. Like something from the fairy tale Snow White, she was the she was the very image of the evil Queen who tempted Snow White into eating the poison apple, complete with crown. She stared down at the little girl, horrified out her mind at the thought of the wicked queen even knowing she was there, and leered at them straight faced without even the hint of a smile. "SMEE!" she screeched, causing him to come running up the stairs out of breath.

"Yes, your highness, shall I tell the others that Pan's back? They are ready upon your command." he replied bowing before her.

"No …" she paused before responding, sticking out her crimson lips with raised eyebrow, considering the matter. She turned around to face her second in command, her pale face and deep blue eyes that turned red when she was angry still frightened Smee to trembling in his boots, even though she was now mild in her disposition.

"No …" she repeated striding up to him, "I think I will handle this myself. Family, you know …" she whispered to him, fixing his glasses on his nose, with her long sharp fingernails, better described as claws, while grinning at him as she did, only to grimace again as he smiled back.

"Is the gingerbread house ready?" she asked, raising her brow impatiently awaiting his response while tapping her pointed shoes. Her voice held a somewhat flirtatious tone, as everything she said was usually soft spoken with a hint of the menacing motives behind it.

"Ye..y...yes your highness."

She looked him up and down once more raising her brow, "Good," she purred.

"But your highness … Do you think it is safe to go into the woods with Him watching?" Smee rambled pointing his finger upwards to the heavens, trying to keep an appropriate distance from her, yet still follow behind.

She whirled about, and nearly knocked the poor fellow over in his alarm, "You know, Smee, a wise man once said vengeance belongs to God." She leaned in, face to face, offering a wicked look, full of limitless hostilities, causing her voice to sneer in abhorrence of being questioned by a man she considered her court jester, "Well, that man, he didn't know what he was talking about." That was that, as it always was where she was concerned. She turned on her spiked heel and was gone.

In the forest, as the girl danced about picking wildflowers, she came upon a lovely woman with hair as dark as night, sitting on a cupcake near a house that looked good enough to eat. "Are you Snow White?" the child happily exclaimed running up to the young woman, eager to make friends. She was dressed like Snow White, so the small child thought it a good guess.

"I guess today I could be …" The woman smiled back, almost bashful in her response. She patted her knees and offered, "If I am Snow White, then what is your name, little girl?" The wicked queen's tone was the same to the child as it was to Smee, only she did not know to fear it as he did.

"My name is Mary Elizabeth Fisher, pleased to meet you," she answered with a smile, just as her mother taught her.

"Oh, what a lovely name. I knew a someone named Mary Elizabeth once, but her last name was certainly not Fisher …" she replied with a small chuckle, offering the girl a lollipop and a seat beside her.

"I am named for my great-great grandmother. My great grandmother said I should be very proud of my name, but I think it silly. And you know what? My Granny Wendy, that's my great grandmother, she laughs too sometimes when she says it. Although, I don't think my name is all that funny! I think it rather dull sometimes. If I could pick my own name I would pick something spectacular, like Alice. Alice is a fine name! Like Alice in Wonderland, and this Wonderland, so it would be perfect, don't you think?" Mary Elizabeth prattled happily, already enjoying the delicious taste of her treat.

Martine's smile turned momentarily to an angry scowl, and she all but sneered, "Child, this is far from Wonderland …" only to return her cheerfully pleasant disposition, for Mary Elizabeth's sake, "Alice is such a plain name, but Mary Elizabeth has a rather regal sound to it. I think a little girl as pretty as you, should have the name of royalty, don't you agree?"

Martine's grin, unceasing and now sinister, had become chilling to the small child, "Is your name really Snow White?" Mary Elizabeth cautiously asked, looking about apprehensively, hearing Peter Pan calling for her off in the distance.

"No. My name is Martine, and I am a queen and this my kingdom, and little girl … you are not welcome here."

Martine yanked Mary Elizabeth up by her hair and harshly dragged her kicking and screaming to the gingerbread house. "Peter, help me! The queen's captured me!"

Peter, hearing Mary Elizabeth's voice, took to the sky in search of her. He reached the place she was last seen as Martine shut the door to her gingerbread house washing her hands clean of what remained of the little girl. "What did you do to her?" Peter shouted, pulling out his sword in attempt to engage her in a fight.

"What do you think I did with her, Pan? I shoved her in the oven, of course! A word of warning to you, boy, I am not an angel as those who were sent before me. Captain Hook held no grudge against you for his imprisonment in this place, but I do. And I am something completely different and far worse than you or the devil could ever imagine. If I were you, I would take that sword and save us all the time left in this world," she now screamed, "AND DRIVE IT STRAIGHT THROUGH YOUR LACK OF HEART!" and then she turned, mocking as she completed her sentiment, "Oh, that's right, you have a heart now. All the better for me. God bless good old Uncle George!"

As Martine strode toward Peter with that red firing burning in her eyes, Peter jumped in the air and flew off. Martine watched him go and sighed loudly, "Sometimes, it's just too easy …"


	78. Chapter 78 The Never Ending Story

My Darling Love

Chapter 78 – The Never Ending Story

"_God gave us memories so that we may have roses in December."_

_-J.M. Barrie_

"Mama!" Mary Elizabeth screamed, and then fell from her bed.

"Mary Elizabeth … Mary Elizabeth … What's wrong my precious baby?" Harriet shouted as she and her husband quickly ascended the stairs and ran into their daughter's room only to find her not there.

Mary Elizabeth was not a stupid child, when she awoke, she ran into her great grandmother's room. It had once been the old nursery when the Darling family lived there. Now only one remained, Wendy. Harriet found her daughter safely under the blankets alongside of Wendy, aged and wrinkled, nearing a century old. Wendy nodded to Harriet and Edgar, "Everything is alright, dearest hearts. I will talk to Mary Elizabeth and then send her back to bed."

Her doting parents left them alone for a few minutes and Mary Elizabeth began, without taking a breath, "I had the worst nightmare, Granny Wendy, I was flying with this boy called Peter Pan and he told me he could take me to a magical kingdom where I would never have to grow up. There was this queen he told me to be afraid of, so I was, but only until she told me I couldn't stay in her kingdom because if I did, then I would never get to see you, mommy, daddy, and Nana Jane again. I didn't believe her at first Granny, because Peter told me all these awful punishments she cast upon him, and Granny, I saw his scars with my own eyes. But she just said, he was very bad and was always trying to steal little children away from their mommies and daddies. She told me Peter wanted to turn me into a goldfish and then take me to a pet shop and drop me into a tank where I would get scooped up and sold to someone as a pet. She said she really didn't do all those nasty things to him, he's just a liar Granny Wendy, and you know what Nana Jane says about liars, _'tell one lie and no one will ever believe you again'_, like the little boy who cried wolf. Anyway, she said she does do some stuff, not that bad though, to teach him a lesson, like when daddy spanked my fanny for drawing on the wall with my crayons. Only Granny, that silly Peter Pan is stubborn and doesn't listen when she tells him not to do bad things. Really Granny, she's only mean because she doesn't want him to hurt somebody else that don't deserve to get hurt. She told me to escape I had to I had to eat a marshmallow and so I did and now I'm here in bed."

"What an amazing story! Well that settles it, no more ice cream with chocolate syrup before bed. What was the queen's name in your dream?" she asked, holding Mary Elizabeth about the shoulders close to her chest.

"She said her name was Martine. She said she knew someone named Mary Elizabeth and she thought my name was funny, too!" Mary Elizabeth whined. "I hate my name, Granny Wendy, it's so formal and fancy. _'Come to supper Mary Elizabeth…Don't get dirty before school, Mary Elizabeth…Put away your toys, Mary Elizabeth…Time for bed, Mary Elizabeth…' _Oh, why can't my name just be Alice?"

"Oh no, Mary Elizabeth, your name is lovely, truly it is. And you are named for my mother, and that alone makes your name more beautiful than any other your mommy and daddy could have chosen. It is an honor to be named for someone who lived before you and accomplished great things in their life. It is a blessing, almost as if they are your personal guardian angel in heaven. Think of Nana Jane, she was named for my little sister. And your own mother, Harriet, she was named for my Uncle Harry and he was an amazing man. As a matter of fact, I think your Great-great grandpa Harry is second only to my own father, and there you have at least twelve uncles with the name of either George or Harry … Not to mention at least two dozen more cousins named that as well. And there are other family names, Michael, John, Joseph, Millicent, Margaret, Caroline…Goodness, Mary Elizabeth, you even named your own teddy bear, _'King Harold George Joseph Michael Bear'_, and insist on everyone calling him by his full title. _'Its tea time, King Harold George Joseph Michael Bear, remember your top hat and dress coat, the Queen is coming!'_ Now, if that is not a fancy, formal, regal name for a stuffed bear, I don't know what is!"

Mary Elizabeth giggled at Granny Wendy's imitation of her own silliness, but Wendy was very serious, and comfortingly she continued, "You see dearest, we give our children names of those out of the past, whom we loved tremendously, to keep their memory alive in our hearts. Just hearing their name spoken reminds us of all the good times, the happiness, the pride and joys they gave to us, and the hopes we need, the faith we must have in the future. And even though, they are heaven, they live on in the spirit of another, and so my love, because of this, they are never forgotten. Now, there is only one Mary Elizabeth, and that is you, sweetheart. You know, Mary Elizabeth is my very favorite name and that is why your mommy and daddy picked it. They wanted to name you Jenny, and for a time I agreed, but then I held you the very second you were born and your mommy asked what name would be fitting to a newborn as lovely as you, for Jenny would simply not due. And I told her, Mary Elizabeth for my mother, and my beloved, Mary Elizabeth Fisher you are," Wendy finished.

"I did tell Queen Martine that, Granny, I told her that was your mommy's name! I guess my name is alright, really, Granny, I do think it pretty, sometimes," Mary Elizabeth conceded, shrugging her shoulders and giving her great-grandmother such a funny expression of innocent acceptance, having been fated with the name, _'Mary Elizabeth Fisher,'_ Wendy, again, had to laugh. "At least I don't have to share my guardian angel with any of my cousins … and to be named 'Jenny', well, that would be just awful …

"Anyway, Granny, back to my story. So, Peter said Queen Martine was very ugly, but I thought her rather pretty and polite. And Granny, she told me I could eat anything I wanted in her gingerbread house and then I would get really sleepy and when I woke up I would be home. I was still a little scared -- you know mommy and daddy say I'm not supposed to take candy from strangers. She told me I was smart, and she never thought of that before. But then she said I was only dreaming, so it was okay. I told her I like toasted marshmallows, so she let me toast mine over her fire before I ate it. Then she kissed my cheek and told me to make sure I lock my window when I go back to sleep tonight, just in case. She said bad old Peter Pan is very daring now. He is a big fat old liar and I don't like him anymore! I told her my Granny Wendy would never let him take me to no place where I would turn into a goldfish. I said just be sure that I was well protected I was going to sleep in your bed with you tonight!"

"Alright, Mary Elizabeth, that is quite enough. Now Granny Wendy is tired and needs her rest. Go back to your room and I will tuck you in. Now dearest, please." Harriet and Edgar were listening at the door and hearing their own daughter go on about her imaginary land and friends made her parents giggle. Edgar lifted Mary Elizabeth into his arms and hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead, as she was already sleepy eyed once more. "Please, daddy, can't I sleep in Granny Wendy's bed tonight? I'm afraid of nightmares."

"Only if it is okay with Granny Wendy, Mary Elizabeth," Harriet spoke up from behind her husband.

"It's alright, Harriet and Edgar, she can stay tonight." Wendy granted her permission so Mary Elizabeth's mother and father allowed. Edgar gave Wendy her own kiss on the cheek as he departed back to the parlor and his evening paper.

Once her father left, Mary Elizabeth turned to Wendy and proudly said, "Queen Martine told me when the new baby comes, I have to stand guard and keep nasty old Peter Pan away because I will be the big sister and that's her special job! So that's what I'm going to do!"

"Oh really, a new baby, you say…" Wendy replied smiling to Harriet as she gave Mary Elizabeth her beloved teddy bear, King Harold George Joseph Michael Bear.

"It was to be a surprise," Harriet answered, trying her best to sound cross, as her lovely daughter revealed the special secret that was to be a birthday present to her grandmother, Gwendolyn Angelina Darling Dunange. But all for naught, Harriet only grinned from ear to ear as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Edgar is hoping for a boy, and if it is, we shall name him James, and he will be another one of a kind, just like his sister."

"Thank you, Harriet. You see, Mary Elizabeth, he will not have to share his guardian angel either."

"Alright, now, Mary Elizabeth, to bed!" Harriet commanded, and her daughter obeyed after snuggling up with her stuffed bear, but not before telling her Granny Wendy after her mother turned out the light and retired herself, "The Queen also wanted me to remind you to say your prayers tonight before you go to bed."

Wendy was a little baffled for she always said her prayers. "That's all she said?"

Mary Elizabeth rested on the pillow next to Wendy just about to doze off. "Uh huh," she replied, nodding slowly.

"I will then, Mary Elizabeth, sweet dreams," Wendy told her softly.

"I love you, Granny Wendy." Mary Elizabeth's expression changed to one of sadness as she touched the wrinkled cheek of her great grandmother.

"I love you too, dearest," Wendy replied, turning off her bedside lamp.

In the darkness, Mary Elizabeth cuddled closely next to her Granny, and although Wendy could not see her great granddaughter, she was aware, Mary Elizabeth was not sleeping. "Dearest, what is wrong, you are not still scared are you?"

"No, its just…Granny, are you scared of pirates?" Mary Elizabeth whispered, a little scared herself.

"No, not at all Mary Elizabeth," Wendy replied, rather valiantly. "You know, Mary Elizabeth, some of my best friends were pirates when I was a young girl."

"Really, Granny?" Mary Elizabeth said excitedly, only to be shushed by Wendy as Edgar called up the stairs, "It does not sound like a sleeping little girl up there, Mary Elizabeth! Now go to bed!"

"Oh yes, Mary Elizabeth, now why would you ask such a question?" Wendy asked softly.

"There was a pirate ship that was sunk off the shore of Queen Martine's kingdom. It was awfully scary looking, Granny, all rotted away just sitting in the calm sea. Peter Pan told me that it can rise like a ghost from the dead at a moment's notice with a phantom crew that helms the mighty vessel. And when it does, Granny, that ship floats over the clouds of Queen Martine's kingdom and scoops up all the little children playing and takes them to a very bad place. He told me the Ghost Captain of the ship and him battled a long time ago, and Peter Pan won, so the Ghost Captain is not as strong as he used to be. Now he is a big huge chicken and hides when Peter Pan tries to catch him, he still wants to fight him, Granny, but the Ghost Captain is very good at the game of Hide and Go Seek, and poor Peter Pan has been 'it' forever! I was still to be wary when walking along in the fields of wildflowers and pastures of green grass, Peter Pan warned. He said the Ghost Captain is an ally of Queen Martine and helps her sometimes, although he did say the Queen and Pirate Captain really don't get along. Even the Ghost Captain thinks she is too mean and nasty. Peter Pan said she is supposed to be punishing the children for playing when they should be working, but sometimes she gets carried away being mean to him and the Ghost Captain has to take care of gathering up all the children and disciplining them. Peter Pan says when the Ghost Captain and his crew get all the children loaded on the ship; the vessel disappears off into the horizon and the children are never heard from again. But that bad old Peter Pan was probably just lying, trying to scare me, right Granny? I mean I don't have to worry about the Ghost Captain coming to get me and the new baby too, do I? I meant to ask Queen Martine, but I forgot…"

"So that's where you've been, Captain Hook," Wendy whispered, too quietly for Mary Elizabeth to hear.

Wendy looked toward the window and the moonlight that poured in through the open shades. "I'll have you know, Mary Elizabeth, pirates are rather charming gentlemen, that is, once you get to know them. And I'm sure that even if what Peter Pan said was true, and the little children get scooped up, I assure you the only place they are taken is home to their parents where they belong and are surely treated like first class passengers while on that pirate ship. Oh, I wish I were young again! What a sight that must be to see, a ghost ship rising from the dead and taking the sky, floating about the clouds like waves on the ocean. I'd dance in the grassy fields, hoping they would scoop me up and take me on that magical ride."

Mary Elizabeth giggled gleefully, "Oh, what fun that would be! I've never been on a boat before, Granny," covering her mouth with her hand to hush the noise of her laughter, "Tell me a story, Granny Wendy."

"Alright Mary Elizabeth, just one story, and then you absolutely must go to sleep."

Her great granddaughter gave her word; "Just one story about pirates that are nice and make the story end in a kiss, and I promise to go straight to sleep!" and so Wendy began:

"The name of my story is Beauty and the Beast. Once upon a time there was a pirate captain, named James Hook, and it was rumored throughout all the lands that he was the most dreaded and feared pirate of all. Now, there was a very young girl, her name was Gwendolyn, and it just so happens that this very fateful day, the dread pirate captain and the young girl unknowingly found themselves in the same place at the same time."

"Oh no!" Mary Elizabeth gasped.

"Oh yes," Wendy answered, "but you must be very quiet and not interrupt, Mary Elizabeth, or this story will take all night to tell, and you have school tomorrow. Now, where was I? Oh yes, here we go, on this day in particular while walking along in the forest path picking wild flowers, Gwendolyn lost her way. She was staying with her friends (we'll call them the 'lost boys,' Mary Elizabeth) and Gwendolyn was very frightened for she knew the pirate captain was out and about in the forest as well. It was only made worse, when she slipped on a pebble and hurt her foot, falling into the pond."

Mary Elizabeth chuckled, "Gwendolyn is clumsy," she whispered. Wendy smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Gwendolyn was soaking wet, and could not get up out of the water. She would have called for aid, but she was scared it would be a pirate captain that would come to the rescue and not her friends. She tried to stand, only to fall over once again, this time she got caught in the lily fronds that pulled her underwater. Now, she would have surely drowned had not someone lifted her out and carried her to the sandy beach near the pond, which, my dear, is exactly what happened. Her valiant savior told her, _"You are alright now, beauty. Just rest in the sunlight for a bit and when you feel better, follow the rose petals back to your hut."_

"Hut, granny?" Mary Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, when Gwendolyn stayed with her friends, the lost boys, she stayed in a tiny little hut they built for her."

"What did Gwendolyn do after she was rescued, Granny?"

"Well, she opened her eyes and saw the outline of a man standing above her. But she could not see his face, for the sun was directly behind him overhead. Twas' such a bright light that poured down from the heavens that day. She could see nothing, only hear his reassuring voice, and so, she listened. She rested a bit, and when she felt better, she rose and followed the rose petals, and they were a lovely crimson, back to her hut. She asked all of her friends, every one of them, if they had been the one to save her, and all denied that even knew she had ventured out into the forest that day. _'There was only one other person in the forest, and he was searching for us, to capture us and make us walk the plank on his pirate ship, so we know he is not the one who saved you!'_ they told her."

"Well, who saved her, Granny?" Mary Elizabeth questioned, intrigued by Wendy's tale.

"Captain Hook, of course," Wendy replied.

"He wouldn't save her, Granny…would he?" Mary Elizabeth queried. "I mean, how do you know?"

"I will tell you, Mary Elizabeth, now listen." Wendy changed her tone, speaking very softly now as she heard Edgar and Harriet climb the stairs of the old Darling House, on their way to bed. "Gwendolyn wanted to know for sure that it was in fact Captain Hook that rescued her from the pond, so she took another walk on that very path another day when she much older, a fair maiden, if you will. And just like before, she slipped on a pebble and fell head first into the pond. Only this time, she didn't drown; she just sat in the water and waited. Oh, it seemed as if I waited, I mean, she waited all day for him to come. And finally as the moon was high in the sky, he finally did. But he did not carry her out of the water, he only offered his hand and said, _'One does not become a mermaid by simply sitting in water. I have to tell you, fair maiden, if you are waiting to grow fins, you may have to wait forever. And even then, I'm not sure that will do it…"_

Wendy laughed while recalling the memory, especially the look on her James' face as he tried to contain his hysterics, as she stood from the pond, covered not only in water but mud and muck as well. Wendy looked down and saw her great granddaughter had drifted off to sleep. "It's such a lovely tale, I must finish it, if only for my own ears," Wendy reasoned and so she went on.

" '_Wendy, darling,'_ Captain James Hook sneered and bowed before me. _'How lovely to come across you so late in the evening all alone and unattended by your trusted and loyal comrades.'_ He offered me his arm, just like a gentleman, and so I took it and began to stroll with him back into the forest. _'You know Captain Hook, I have been waiting all day for you,'_ I told him quite frankly and he gave me the most shocked looked, mockingly, you understand, but surprised at my words, nonetheless. _'Why ever would you be waiting for me?'_ he asked, as if he didn't know. He did, but just to be certain, I told him, _'To thank you for saving me from that very pond when I was a small child. I know it was you, Captain Hook, you need not deny your chivalrous act.'_

" '_Oh really, fair maiden, and how do you it was I and not your Peter Pan?'_ He asked me, still in that annoyingly mocking tone. So I explained how I knew for sure it was undoubtedly he that was my knight in shining armor, _'You called me Beauty, Captain Hook. Yes, you said, "You are all right now, beauty. Just rest in the sunlight for a bit and when you feel better, follow the rose petals back to your hut." I know it was you for you think me beautiful._

" '_I most certainly do not,' _he replied arrogantly, straightening his dress coat, shifting about uncomfortably on his feet, so much so it made me giggle and more determined for him to see the truth of the situation as clearly as I. I simply told him, _'Yes, yes, you do.'_

" '_Oh really…' _he sneered, as if I would lie about such a thing, so I again corrected his error with, _'Yes, you called me Beauty again, only a day later…therefore I know you think me beautiful.'_

" '_I did? I called you Beauty? Oh no, you must be mistaken.' _he retorted, rather surprised to find my memory better than his own.

" '_Yes, only a day later while onboard the Jolly Roger you said "Go ahead, Beauty, give Pan your precious thimble.' _I reminded him bluntly. _'That proves Captain Hook, you think me beautiful.'_

'_Oh yes, now I remember. And you gave Pan your thimble. He is the one who thinks you are beautiful,'_ he conceded with an odd disappointment. But I could never allow him to think it was Peter Pan that still held my heart, so I said, _'I was just a girl then, I am a woman now…'_

" 'And your thimble is still for him,' he replied dismally, but at the same time almost relieved. Oh yes, he nearly choked on his tongue when I corrected, _'No, my thimble is for you.'_

" '_Ah Beauty, how fickle a woman's heart is,' _he jested, and with that simple sentence he captured my heart forever._ 'See, Captain Hook … you called me Beauty again…' " _

Wendy lost in her own mind had not noticed Mary Elizabeth stirred from her slumber. "Did you kiss him, Granny?" Wendy turned her tired old head down to her great granddaughter and smiled, "Not on the mouth, he only my brushed his lips gently over my hand that night, see Mary Elizabeth, I told you pirates were gentleman. Good night and sweet dreams, my love."

Wendy said her prayers and rested her head back on her pillow closing her eyes after she was sure Mary Elizabeth was busy in her own sweet dreams. There was a strange wind that blew into the room, and Wendy opened her eyes to see the outline of a boy standing on the sill. "Wendy?" he whispered.

It was very dark without the lamp, and only the ashes left smoldering in the fireplace gave the old nursery its light. "Peter? Peter Pan?" Wendy asked softly, doing her best to sit up.

Now Peter could not see Wendy, only her shape in the shadows. "I heard you telling a story and I just had to come back…" He could not see Mary Elizabeth either, only able to sense the presence of a child not ready yet to grow up in the room. "Is that John?" he asked drifting near her overhead looking down.

"No, Peter, John is gone."

"Michael then?" he questioned happily.

"No, Michael is gone too, many years ago in fact."

"Ah…so this is a new one?" he said, landing at the foot of the bed.

"Yes, she is only a little girl. Her name is Mary Elizabeth Fisher, and you have already made her acquaintance, so I've heard," Wendy answered.

"Mary Elizabeth … sounds familiar," Pan whispered in the cold night air. "I thought you once told me your parents could not have more children, Wendy?" Peter suddenly jerked his head about the room, placing his attention on the door that lead to the hallway, "Your father isn't home, is he?"

"No Peter, my father isn't home, nor is my mother. They have passed on."

"Passed on? You mean they're dead! Then whom does this child belong to?" Peter laughed at George and Mary's demise, and questioned Mary Elizabeth's paternity with great interest. "She belongs to her parents, Harriet and Sir Edward Fisher. And I'll have you know, they are both at home, asleep in their bedroom."

"So why is she here with you? Are you her guardian angel? No, you're not an angel. You are her nanny!" Peter made his best guess, as Wendy shifted to turn on the light. With a flick of the switch, the room was illuminated and Peter Pan cast his eyes to Wendy Darling Dunange, an elderly woman unrecognizable in her aged beauty. "Who are you?" Peter shouted as he jumped across the room back to the window.

"I am Wendy, Peter, and I am not a nanny. I grew up, and got married and had babies. My babies had babies, and their babies had babies and so on. Mary Elizabeth is my great-granddaughter, and I ask you kindly to stay far away from her as she has already told me of your adventures with her this night."

As Wendy recounted her life story in short, Peter Pan cried tears, repeating, "No, no, no, no Wendy…" over and over again.

"Yes, Peter, I married James, my James and had four children by him. Now, my eldest child, my eldest daughter who is the spitting image of my pirate captain, her name is Jane. And Jane gave me Harriet and Harriet gave me Mary Elizabeth. Isn't she lovely, Peter? Can you not see him in her? Oh, she is an angel from heaven. Is that why you snatched her from her bed?" Wendy looked up to see Peter Pan on his knees weeping real tears.

"She is pretty, Wendy, so very pretty. She promised to stay with me in Neverland forever, and then she just left. All children leave now, no one stays anymore and I am alone. Can I not take her back with me and keep her forever?"

"Oh no, Peter. You cannot have her for she belongs to her parents and me and Captain Hook. He would never let you take her from us."

Feeling her stare, Peter quickly stood and pulled his dagger, "Where is he, where is Captain Hook? Let us battle tonight for this little girl's hand and end this forever. I'm tired of playing this game! NO MORE HIDE AND SEEK! Captain Hook thinks himself smart and very sneaky! I can't see him, but I know he is there sometimes in Neverland! I can hear Queen Martine and him fighting, yelling and screaming at one another, as the full moon rises high into the sky and heavy fog and cold encompasses the island! Its not supposed to snow when I am in Neverland! Now there are cruel blizzards that last forever and I freeze while that wicked queen toasts marshmallows over her cozy fire in her comfy castle. She never suffers! Why am I always the one that has to suffer now! No matter what I do, I cannot tempt Captain Hook back into our game! It is an endless torture to have to always fight a girl! Queen Martine does not play games and she never lets me win! Look what she has done to me, Wendy, LOOK!" Peter Pan stepped into the light to show the evidence on his body of the hell he lives in at the hands of his new foe, an evil Queen, who knows not mercy or compassion.

Wendy did not look at Peter Pan. She held her gaze to her great granddaughter as her ears fell deaf to his words. And so, Peter Pan continued in the same troubled tone, intent on being heard, "I wish to do battle with a Pirate Captain, Wendy, who lets me win sometimes just to be nice! Where is he? You go get him for me right now! I KNOW HE IS HERE WITH YOU!"

Wendy smiled, and removed a framed picture of her and James taken on their wedding day from her nightstand, truly not at all listening to his crazed ranting. It was James Dunange in the picture, at least to everyone else that looked at it. But to Wendy, it was and would always be Captain James Hook at his happiest, her immortal beloved frozen in time, forever. Touching her hand to his face, gazing at his handsome expression, she sighed and clutched the photo to her chest. "He died, Peter, long ago …"

"Hah! I told you, Wendy! If he was real he was going to die! And now he is dead! No wonder I can't see him anymore! He truly is the Ghost Captain of Neverland! Good! And you are all alone! And unloved! And very old and ugly with all your wrinkles! HAH! FINALLY! I WON! I WON! At least I still get to win where that fool of a pirate captain is concerned!" he interrupted her, and danced about gleefully in his victory, taking to his happy thoughts that made him airborne, cavorting near the ceiling.

"I may be old, but I am not alone. No, I have children that live, and grandchildren, and great grandchildren, even my brother John is still living, Peter. He has children that live, as well as grandchildren, great grandchildren…why he even has a great-great grandchild, if you can believe," she gently brushed a few strands of Mary Elizabeth's dark hair from her face as she slept peacefully.

"And they all love me and I love them. Death may have parted Captain Hook and me here on earth, but in heaven … well, that is another story. So, go on, Peter, go back to your endless adventures, for I have plenty of my own that will live on far longer than you will. And there is nothing you can do to rob me of them. When I die, which I pray will be soon, Captain Hook and I will be together, for eternity. Now, please be kind to the elderly woman I am now, and close the window when you leave."

There was a loud thump in the room, the sound of a boy who chose not to grow up and learn the lessons of love and life, falling from the ceiling, his happy thoughts of endless misadventures stolen away. He knelt before Wendy's bed and removed his dagger from its sheath. "If the heart offends thee, dearest, cut it out…" Wendy whispered.

Peter Pan looked intently at the dagger, its sharp blade shining in the moonlight, "NO! It's my heart and I'm not giving it up for nobody! I'll show you, Wendy! One day … yes, one day, you will want me to save you again and take you to Neverland! And it will be too late! For I could never love an old lady like you! HA! What do you think about that?"

If Wendy thought anything, she didn't say it aloud. She only softly spoke her nightly prayer, "Please God, have mercy on Peter Pan and forgive his sins. Guide him back to the lights of Your heavenly graces and shower upon him compassion and mercy," and drifted off to sleep. But there was another in the room, another soul present that had an opinion on the matter, and as Peter Pan slowly stepped to Wendy's bedside, that soul moved from the shadows and into the moonlight to give voice, "Proud and insolent youth! Prepare to meet thy doom!"

Peter Pan ran full speed to the window and leapt out into the night sky, the second the first syllable of that bone chilling purr hit his ears. Frightened for his life, he flew just as quickly away as he would have had he been filled with happy thoughts, as opposed to the terrifying feelings he had grown strangely accustomed to. Her royal highness, the dreaded and feared, Queen Martine slowly glided across the room to the window. She rolled her eyes, quite annoyed that anyone, least of all Wendy Darling, would be praying for the lost soul of Peter Pan. As she looked out after the fleeing Pan, she cast her gaze to the heavens and sneered, "I thought You said this was going to be a very challenging game? Tricky and daunting, yes, that is what You said. Really, 'tis no competition at all, it's just too easy. I've actually grown bored of this…"

"_**I imagine it being too easy, as you say, is what makes it boring. The tricky and challenging part will begin when you are ready to save Pan, as opposed to the punishment of his poor tortured soul you delight in now. Where others have failed, you must succeed. I am aware you think it untrue, but vengeance is Mine, my girl, not yours. Now, it will be a daunting task, I assure you, when you embark on that adventure, for Peter Pan IS proud and insolent. But, within the heart I have entrusted him, he has the potential to do great good. There will be no more children brought to Neverland; the game has ended here with Mary Elizabeth Fisher. Lucifer has already conceded his defeat, yet again, and waved the white flag. And so, your majesty, you may commence with the next phase of our plan as soon as you return to your kingdom. Allow Me to make one tiny suggestion?"**_

Martine frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, "Fine …" she acceded reluctantly, shaking her head.

"**Follow James Hook's advice, dear heart. If a darkened heart cannot save Peter Pan, perhaps now, an enlightened one will."**

"And what of your foe, Lucifer? I wonder what he would say about his prize soldier changing sides. Surely, even if he has conceded defeat, he would never agree to that …"

"**_Since you have asked, Lucifer has deemed Peter Pan a mere casualty in his plight. He thinks of Pan as weak and cowardly, and as always, he has abandoned him. I must say, Martine, you seem quite confident that your new mission will be an effortless one, that the victory I have asked for is already won."_**

"I never said that, Dearest Lord. But, I will not accept defeat! No one will rob me of my salvation! Now, if You would excuse me, there is much work to be done." Martine bowed before the Lord, and blinked instantly back to her castle.

"SMEE!!" she shouted, and as her second-in-command came scurrying, she again yelled, "As soon as you see Peter Pan out and about, kindly, and I MEAN KINDLY, SMEE, invite him to the castle for tea with the Queen. And if he should happen to decline my invitation, I want you to tie him up and DRAG HIM HERE! Fret not about his ability to fly away, powerless, alone and unloved, he has no happy thoughts…" she continued as she stalked to her throne and took a seat pompously upon it.

"_**One more thing, Queen Martine, please remember that patience is a virtue, as are kindness and mercy. And you will need to learn them before you can even hope for success and salvation. Educate yourself with the simple lessons quickly, my dear. A wise man once said, you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make him drink."**_

"Alright, alright …" Martine waved her hand, shaking off the almighty Lord's words. "Fine!" In a much more welcoming and -- dare say -- polite tone (if that was possible) Queen Martine repeated her command, "Mr. Smee, please invite Peter Pan to the castle for afternoon tea. If he declines today offer him a blanket for warmth, a gift from me, Queen Martine, as an act of good faith. We shall seek him out tomorrow and ask him nicely again, this time we shall give him something else to show we are peaceful and compassionate to his most unfortunate situation. And we will ask him each day after that, just as nicely, until he accepts. Thank you."

Alas, she was still wicked, and shrieked, "NOW DO AS I SAY THIS VERY MOMENT FOR I AM TIRED OF WAITING!"

Queen Martine looked heavenward and yelled, "IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND DEAREST LORD, TELL THAT PIRATE CAPTAIN TO MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS FROM NOW ON BECAUSE I AM SIMPLY TOO BUSY TO BE BOTHERED LISTENING TO ALL HIS FOOLISH IDEAS AND EVEN MORE STUPID OPINIONS ON HOW TO COMMAND THIS KINGDOM! THIS IS A CASTLE AFTERALL, NOT A CANOE!"

"**_If I remember correctly, you were the one who originally asked for his advice," _**God sent a bolt a lightening to put the period on the end of his sentence, which hit the marble floor nearest Martine's throne, causing the wicked queen to cower. **_"I assure you he is the one who will be too busy to be bothered with you from now on. And heed my words, young lady, I will never return Captain Hook to Neverland evermore … not even for you."_**

Martine stood up on her throne proudly, about to give voice with another rude and rather discourteous comment she had become infamous for. But she was silent for God warned, **_"Don't make me come down there, Martine Penelope Darling!"_**

"Granny…" Mary Elizabeth spoke shaking her great grandmother awake.

"Yes, dearest …"

"Mommy says she will bring up your breakfast in a minute. I'm off to school now, I love you." Mary Elizabeth kissed her cheek and was gone in flash. Wendy only had enough time to peek through her tired eyelids and see the lovely little girl dash out the bedroom door. "I love you too, dearest, always …"

Wendy closed her eyes and returned to her slumber. As she drifted further and further away, she listened to her heart beat. It pounded in rhythm, "James, James, James …" Suddenly it stopped … and then began again, Captain Hook, Captain Hook, Captain Hook …"

Wendy opened her eyes …

Gwendolyn Angelina Darling stood on a beach, not of Neverland, but another paradise she had never seen. She was in her mother's wedding dress, a gown she always had dreamed of wearing, with a bouquet of pink roses in full bloom clutched in right hand. She was now as she appeared at the time Captain Hook knew her best. She looked off into the horizon as the sun rose on what was to be the first day of her next awfully big adventure. In the waters of the calm sea was the good pirate ship the Jolly Roger in its glory, with sails raised, waiting to embark onward. Captain James Hook stepped out of his cabin and to the rails as the sunlight poured down from the heavens.

Wendy, seeing him emerge, quickly ran to the water, ready to swim to the ship to see her darling love if need be. As the skirts of her dress touched the first drops of salt water, Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling screamed out, "Dearest Wendy, don't ruin my dress!"

Wendy jerked her head to see her parents sitting across from one another in a rowboat, rowing to shore. George and Mary Darling, dressed in their Sunday best, younger than Wendy ever remembered them being, even as a child, helped her on board.

"You didn't think God would make you swim to the ship, did you, dearest?" Mary asked, holding a parasol as Wendy took her place next to her father. Her mother was dressed in the prettiest peach spring gown and her father a handsome suit of cream complete with yellow tie, spectacles and hat. He wore his wedding band and pocket watch, which Wendy was correct in her assumption; "I was very cross with your mother when she buried me without them."

Mary also wore her wedding band with Uncle Harry's engagement ring keeping it company on her finger, "He asked your father if I could still wear it, and he told your Uncle Harry he would be honored," Mary explained, grinning to her handsome husband turning the boat about with the oars.

But that did not matter where they were now. "Away we go on this lovely morning with the two loveliest ladies I have ever seen in my lives," George offered as he began to paddle. Wendy looked both her parents over thoroughly, delighted to see them. They made it to the boat without getting wet, and even helped Wendy up the rope ladder to the ship. "Now remember to stop by and visit with everyone! There are those, Gwendolyn, that are, pardon the expression, dying to see you!" Mary called out, waving to Captain Hook after Wendy was safely on deck. He bowed respectfully to the Queen of hearts and her King.

"You are not coming along, too?" Wendy asked her parents as they gazed adoringly at one another as if not another person in heaven or on earth existed except George and Mary.

"No, dearest Wendy," George responded. "But if you ever want to see us, we'll be there." Her parents smiled to her once more, blowing a kiss before returning their eyes to the other as they drifted off into the waters on their rowboat together out of sight.

After a passionate welcoming kiss that made Wendy all but faint, she asked, "What were my parent's doing here? Why did you not come and retrieve me. Still busy chasing after Peter Pan, I heard…"

Captain Hook held her from behind and tenderly rested his head on her shoulder. "Peter Pan? Whatever made you think of him, Gwendolyn? I wanted to come and retrieve you, but your mother and father are the ones, my darling love, who insisted on guiding you home … just as they always promised. As for Peter Pan…" Captain Hook could not complete his sentence. There was to be no sadness in heaven, thus, Captain Hook could only gaze outward to the open calm seas before him.

Wendy turned and faced him. "You must know by now, you have my heart, James, please do not let the mention of his name ruin our eternity." She touched his cheek and again placed a perfect kiss upon his lips.

"I did all that was asked of me. I played my part to perfection and am to be rewarded now. If it were not for me, Peter Pan would never have a heart, or a chance for redemption and salvation. But there is no reward if the worry of his well-being shadows your mind. He must serve his penance as I served mine, and when he is done and has proven himself worthy, he will not have only saved himself, but Martine Darling, the evil Queen of Neverland, as well," Captain Hook replied stepping away from her toward his cabin. "Maybe it is best that you stay with James Dunange and your family that awaits you on shore." Captain Hook extended his hand, and Wendy followed the direction, whirling about to see everyone from Aunt Millicent to Grandpa Joe waving from the sandy beaches. She flew back around to see Captain Hook, who in that moment, was gone from her sight.

"NO!" she cried out and collapsed to her knees. And as she fell to the wooden planks, she fell into Captain Hook's arms, where she truly wanted to stay for eternity, thus she whispered, "Where did you go?"

"Away."

"And why did you return?" she asked and he answered in the same hushed tone, only with a hint of sarcasm, "Either you really are daft, or still just don't listen. Your parents told you, when you want to see them, they will be there, did they not?"

Wendy thought of her parents and there they were, still dressed as they were in the rowboat, only now standing arm in arm at the rail of the ship. Mary gave Wendy a backwards glance and casually remarked, "Heaven is a rather unusual place when you are not used to it, Wendy. Please take some time, as you now have forever, and get used to it. Not that we mind seeing you, dearest love, but we just saw you only a moment ago. Is there not someone else you would rather be with right now?"

George agreed with that, and added, "Yes, your mother and I wish to be alone, just her I, together, undisturbed, forever. I'm sure we will see you again soon…but not too soon." With that being said, George and Mary vanished.

Wendy perked up and gazed at Captain Hook wide-eyed, excited by the very simple lesson she learned rather quickly. "You know, Captain Hook, forever is an awfully long time," she almost sang as she stood and pulled him to his feet. "And now that we have forever, we shall follow the good example my parents set, and stay together … forever … undisturbed."

Captain Hook did his best to stutter a rebuttal, "Don't you want to see …" But no matter what name he thought up, Wendy only shook her head and repeated, "Nope, just you and I … forever!"

Finally, he conceded with a chipper grin, rather uncharacteristic of his normally somber disposition. "As you wish, my Beauty," he replied, bowing elegantly at the waist before her. He took her hand in his and twirled her about on the deck, "Shall we dance?"

"Yes, let's waltz to a lovely melody…" Wendy giggled, meeting his steps in flawless timing. He dipped her quickly and began ravaging her neck, showering her with kisses, "On no, fair maiden, today we must tango …"

Their lips met, in the perfect kiss found only in heaven, and together, they lived happily ever after.

THE END

_"For Anna…"_

_Author's Note: I want to thank Cheetahlee for all her wonderful hard work reading, rereading, and at times, reading it all over again once more. Your patience with all my plots and subplots, seen and unseen, was priceless and greatly appreciated. I've said this once before, but I must repeat it, thank you for waving your magic wand over my torrid tale, enchanting it into perfection! Your comments and questions throughout, inspired me more than you will ever know and led me to places I would have never thought to go. Thank you…_

_Thank you to my readers that kept on through the darkness and shadows, determined to see the glorious light at the end. There are some downright awful chapters, painful on the eyes, believe me, it was just as hard to write them as it was to read them. I got lost within the story myself at times, thank you for your persistence to follow behind me, trusting that I knew where I was going with all of this. Thank you for your valiant and very courageous efforts. Thank you for all the feedback, good and bad, it helped me along immensely. _

_If you've been reading along, and have not yet left feedback, please do. I'm very curious of how my readers feel about this story. It was, and still is in a way, my obsession. Please feel free to email me with any questions or comments._

_COMING SOON: "The Pirate Princess" _


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